


Burned To A Cinder

by ferretbaby



Series: Seasons Rekindled [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cultural Differences, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Middle-Earth AU, Mostly rated T except for Ch35, No Smaug, Rimming, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 272,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferretbaby/pseuds/ferretbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Cinderella-esque AU. Bilbo, a lonely hobbit of the Shire in the valley outside Erebor, gets a job as a cook in the dwarf kingdom to pass the time and keep himself occupied after his mother’s death. One day he meets a regal dwarf, who he thinks is a thief and trespasser, and throws an apple at his head, never knowing he’s just assaulted the dwarven Prince. Thus begins the antagonistic and somewhat odd courtship of a hobbit and the next King of Erebor.</p><p> </p><p>CHAPTER 35: NIGHT - Is the new chapter posted on 5/16/14. Its a smut chapter!!<br/>*HIATUS*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Unwell Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of based off the fairy tale Cinderella, but it doesn't completely follow the plot from the book or movies. I did get the inspiration from Ever After though. I would even go so far as to say very few things are recognizable from what you might be expecting. Sorry if you were looking for that. No evil step sister here! .
> 
> Thank you Caristia and auxiliummecum for helping me beta! You two are so wonderful!
> 
> **Currently on Hiatus until 2017**

***

 

Bilbo was halfway to his cozy hobbit hole when he saw the shadowy figure occupying his usual spot under the willow tree at the top of the hill. He paused midstep and almost tripped over an exposed root, catching himself with one hand on the Gamgee’s fence. The other was wrapped tightly around his basket of apples he’d received from the King’s head chef for his pie trials. He glanced down to check that none of the perfectly crisp red apples had fallen loose before looking back up to watch the shadow. It looked like someone was in his yard, sitting on his bench and smoking from a pipe. Bilbo squinted to get a better look but with the setting sun he couldn’t make heads or tails of who it was.

Figuring it was probably just Hamfast Gamgee making use of the large tree that bordered both their properties to sit for a minute and have a smoke in the cool evening atmosphere, Bilbo continued to his hobbit hole with nary a suspicion.

Then, just as he was opening his gate to step onto his porch, he saw something sparkle out of the corner of his eye. Looking back up the hill he saw the shadowed figure move to refill their pipe and as they bent forward the sun’s rays danced off the shimmering metal of a large sword planted in the ground next to the bench and also the gleaming silver of chainmail decorating the sleeves and chest of the figure’s outfit.

‘That was no hobbit!’ Bilbo thought in alarm. A hobbit had no use for weapons or hauberk. Even though they had been occupying the valley outside the great gates of Erebor for hundreds of years, the sharpest of tool any hobbit household held was that of a pair of pruning shears. 

Clutching the basket tightly against his chest, Bilbo crept around the side of his hobbit hole and snuck quietly through his small garden and up the hill towards the figure. With their back towards the hobbit whoever it was didn’t see Bilbo take up arms, too focused on watching the sun set on the far distant horizon.  It was too late to do anything as Bilbo fisted one of the perfectly red apples in his hand and lobbed the fruit at the intruder’s head.

Bilbo’s aim was true, hitting the trespasser square in the back of the head with a deafening smack in the silent evening. With a loud curse in Khuzdul the dwarf jumped to his feet, took up his sword, turned and snarled at Bilbo.

“Who dares attack me!”

Bilbo shrunk back a few steps. In his eager attempt to run the intruder off his property he hadn’t thought that they would brandish their weapon at him.

Gathering his courage, Bilbo squeaked, “M-me! Who ar-are you to trespass on my land?” Bilbo caught sight of the barrel of pipe weed beside the bench and took notice of the familiar insignia on the side. “And steal my property!” He yelped in outrage. He had caught someone not only trespassing but stealing from his property; he would call the dwarven guards and have the dwarf arrested if he didn’t explain himself soon. 

The tall dwarf, for he was tall even among his own kind surely, slowly lowered his sword back into his scabbard as he looked the hobbit over with a disbelieving eye.

“You are a hobbit,” the dwarf stated, looking confused.

Putting a hand on his hips, Bilbo glowered. “Of course I am, you are in the Shire, where hobbits reside. Now explain to me before I call for the guards – why you are on my property and smoking my pipe-weed?”

The dwarf bent over and picked up the apple Bilbo had pitched at him. “Is this what you hit me with, an apple?”

Frustrated not to get his answers and with the weapon put away, Bilbo ignored the dwarf’s bewildered growling and stomped forward. He didn’t think he’d thrown the apple so hard as to knock a few things loose in the dwarf’s head, but without an answer being forthcoming he was growing more annoyed.  

Thinking the dwarf was stunned from the hit, Bilbo swiped the bruised apple from the dwarf’s large hand without thought. “Look, I will overlook the theft if you get off my property right now.”

“ _Theft!_ You think of me as a burglar?” The dwarf barked in outrage.

Bilbo squinted at the dwarf’s face, trying to discern if the dwarf had defective hearing. In the fading light he could see a handsome face, sharp nose with hard silver eyes, a beard braided in a tight plait of black hair about four inches long that ended in a gold clip; shorter and neater than other dwarves Bilbo had seen. His hair was thick waves of black with two braids on either side of the strong face, gold and blue jeweled beads twinkled amongst tresses in the fading light. Now that he was standing up, Bilbo could see the full length of the dwarf’s body, tall with broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms. The blue cloth and fur trim of his outfit, along with the silver chainmail, only made the dwarf’s stature even statelier than Bilbo had originally assumed from behind.

He looked like a perfectly fine specimen of dwarven reflection to the hobbit’s standards, but not all disadvantages we’re apparent to the eyes.

Bilbo thought the dwarf a simpleton, even with his regal appearance, and felt his anger cool.

“Look…”

The dwarf glared harder and refused to give his name when Bilbo paused for it.

Shrugging, Bilbo continued, “…I understand you are angry I hit you, but you are in my backyard, smoking my pipe weed. You are lucky I didn’t call the guards first and have you arrested before giving you a chance to explain yourself.”

“There is no fence or sign stating I had to stay off this land. The mountain and the land around us belong to the dwarves, I am not trespassing if the land does not belong to you.” The dwarf picked up his abandoned pipe and shook the dirt off, his continence getting surlier when he found he had accidently stepped on it and broke the end.

Bilbo huffed. Dwarves. Thinking just because they owned the mountain that they owned the land around the mountain, too. Thrain I had allowed the hobbits to settle in the valley outside Erebor around the same time the dwarves themselves had settled in the Lonely Mountain, providing protection and lands to the hobbits’ in return for food and trade (long before the Men of Dale established themselves farther down the river). In all truthfulness hobbits and dwarves got along rather well, though their interests rarely crossed. Sometimes a hobbit lass would marry a dwarf lad or vice versa and their children could follow in either parent’s custom with little disdain from the other, but sometimes the dwarves liked to hold themselves above hobbits because of their possession of gold and jewels.

“Now you are just being ignorant.” Bilbo glanced towards the horizon and took note of the fallen sun. It was getting dark fast and while he wasn’t scared of the strange dwarf, it wasn’t safe to stay out late at night. “You could be King Thrain II himself and I would still be angry at you for trespassing. Just because you are a dwarf doesn’t give you right to take things without compensation.”

The dwarf gave Bilbo a peculiar look. “You want me to pay you for resting on your bench and watching the sun set?”

“Oh, stop being silly. I’m talking about my pipe-weed!”

The dwarf looked over at the barrel Bilbo pointed to. “Ah. I thought that was for everyone’s use. The training grounds are just over the hill and I assumed one of the guards had placed it there on their watch.”

Which was true, in the afternoon many dwarves took practice in the fields behind Bilbo’s and the Gamgee’s properties. It was sometimes a bother, the dwarves were loud and destructive, but since it wasn’t their land the hobbits had little say about what happened on it. King Thror had purchased the small area of land back from Bilbo’s father long ago because of its closeness to the mountain, wanting a place for the dwarven warriors to practice outside that was hidden from foreign prying eyes. The bench had been placed there long ago though, and the dwarves were hardly worried about a hobbit watching them practice.

“Well, it’s not,” Bilbo stated.

The dwarf straightened, placing his broken pipe somewhere in his jacket and patting his sword against his hip. “I don’t carry any coins with me tonight. Unless you will take other payments as reimbursement, I will be in your debt?”

“Like what?” Bilbo was suspicious, hobbits had little use for things other than coins from dwarves.

The dwarf pulled at one of the beads from his hair, pulling out a large blue jewel surrounded by polished silver in an intricate design, and neatly placed it in Bilbo’s hand.

The hobbit sputtered. “I can’t take this!” Eyes widening as he caught sight of how big the jewel was. Even his mother’s wedding ring had been of a lot smaller size compared to this and her ring had been considered ostentatious around the Shire.  

“I did not know pipe-weed would be so expensive, unless trespassing calls for expensive reimbursement also?” The dwarf asked in confusion.

“No! No, I just… this is too much! It was only a little bit of weed and I could buy barrels of the stuff with just this. I think you’ve overestimated the transgression against me here. Take it back and return tomorrow with a few coins and that will clear everything up.” Bilbo knew how dwarves were about honor and debt, but giving him a large sapphire in return for using a little bit of pipe-weed without permission was ridiculous. 

“First you are angry at my theft and now, when I offer to pay, you won’t take my payment. Is it not to your satisfaction; is it too little?”

Bilbo resisted throwing the bead at the dwarf and just running away. This dwarf seemed like more trouble than he was worth now and he wished he’d never snuck up here to chase him off. “Oh gosh,” Bilbo moaned. “This has gotten so out of hand. It’s late and I’m tired, _you_ certainly look tired, and no one’s thinking straight. How about we just forget this ever happened. You know not to come here without permission and I now know throwing apples at people isn’t a way to solve my problems. Take this back and go buy a barrel of your own pipe-weed.”

Bilbo tried to shove the jeweled bead back towards the dwarf but the dwarf just crossed his arms against his chest and sniffed haughtily back at the hobbit.

“I will not take it back. I owed you a debt.”

“Why don’t we just consider me injuring you as payment?” Bilbo remembered how the dwarf had rubbed his head like it had ached.

“I will not take punishment as a repayment for my transgressions like some child, nor am I a burglar or intruder. I owe you a debt that I’m honor bound to pay for.”

Bilbo had to set the apples down at his feet so he didn’t lose any as he flailed. “But this is more than what was owed me!”

Understanding seemed to dawn on the dwarf. “Ah, so that is the problem. I have paid too much and now you owe me in return.”

Bilbo froze, and in the now brightening silver moonlight of the night he felt a shiver go down his spine at the dwarf’s tone. “W-what?”

Waving at the bead in Bilbo’s hand, the dwarf smirked. “If it is too much you can pay me back with however much coins are owed me…”

Bilbo felt his heart sink. The jewel looked very expensive to the hobbit. And while the Baggins have always been a rich and well-to-do family by hobbit standards, he had no idea what the settlement would be and it might be way more than his family had saved up to live off of.

“… Or you can allow me and my men use to the bench and pipe-weed from now on without further assaults against our persons.”

“Oh!” Bilbo sighed with relief. That didn’t sound too bad. The dwarves mostly practiced in the late afternoon and if he got the new job in the kitchens like he wanted he wouldn’t be around to be bothered by the strange company sitting on his bench and helping themselves to the pipe-weed he’d set out there.

“I guess that would be okay.” It still sounded a little uneven to him, a big jewel for the use of a bench on a hill and some pipe-weed, but Bilbo was tired of arguing about it. He just wanted to get out of the evening chill and inside to get started on his trial pies. He would think of some later deed to make up for the debt _he_ now _owed_ his _intruder_. Oh, how things had turned on their head for Bilbo.

The dwarf nodded in satisfaction, most likely pleased to have made amends and secured a good resting spot for his men after their practice, maybe even unknowingly tricking Bilbo into his debt instead.

“Good. Now, do you need me to escort you to your home this late at night?”

Bilbo caught the moan of distress before it left his throat and offended the dwarf. “That’s alright, my door is just around the corner. I will inform Mister Gamgee of our arrangement so he doesn’t try to chase you or the others off, and hopefully we will meet on better terms next time.” It was best to be polite even if one felt like pulling their hair out because of exasperating company.

“I am pleased.”

Whatever for Bilbo had no clue, because he was rather frustrated now and hoped it somehow wouldn’t translate into his cooking.  It would be just his luck to burn his pies and ruin all chances he had at getting the job he wanted in the mountain kingdom. Stooping to pick up his basket of apples, Bilbo gave the dwarf one last look. The other just stood there awkwardly staring at the hobbit, looking unsure to what he should do now.

“W-well, good night.” Bilbo gave a small nod and turning on bare feet made a quick exit down the hill and around the corner to his hobbit hole. He resisted looking out the window once he was inside to see if the dwarf was still just standing there, and instead wandered into the kitchen to set his burden of fruit down on the nicely polished counters.

Much too frazzled to start cooking right away he wandered the house, picking up scattered knickknacks and setting them on the shelves, straightening the papers at his desk, and even finally getting around to moving some of his mother’s extra decorative dollies into the chest his late uncle had made – all to keep him from drifting to the window to stare out like nosy Lobelia Bracegirdle to see if the dwarf had left. It took some time, but cleaning calmed him enough that when he sat down he could pull the bead out of his pocket and study it without feeling very anxious.

It really was very pretty. He hadn’t been able to see the detail earlier, but in the fire light he could see the tiny designs weaving through the silver. Beside the large blue jewel centered in the middle of the bead there was what looked like small runes spelled out in Khuzdul along one edge and a tiny mountain in blue along with a crown with seven stars hovering over it. For such a tiny thing it was very elaborate and Bilbo wondered at the skill needed to make such a thing.

Wondering if the dwarf had made the bead himself, Bilbo sat back in his chair and thought about his encounter with him. It still unsettled him how things had been handled.

He would keep the bead, in case the dwarf somehow figured it still too much for what he owed Bilbo. If the dwarf came back and asked for it or even exchanged it for a few coins, Bilbo would happily return it. He felt like he’d somehow cheated the simpleton and hoped the dwarf’s family wouldn’t seek him out for retribution.

Better safe than sorry.

Bilbo walked to his room and emptied the small box he kept next to his bedside of the extra brass buttons he kept in there and placed the lone jeweled bead inside. It would be safe there and close at hand if he ever needed it.

With one last sigh of a heavy burden lifted, Bilbo felt better about starting on his baking now.

 

 

****

 


	2. The Kitchens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo starts his work in the dwarf kingdom’s kitchen, but there are a few duties he has to do as the new guy learning the ropes. On one of these errands he runs into his dwarf burglar.

****

 

Bilbo’s pies turned out perfect if a little crispy on top, so after sprinkling some extra cinnamon and sugar on them he hurried back to the head cook in the kitchens the next morning and received boisterous praise for his baking skill. Next Bombur sent him home with some potatoes and a slice of flank steak for a trial dinner, which didn’t receive near as good praise as his pies, but he was assured he passed and his cooking was decent.

He was hired at a monthly salary that seemed almost too large to believe, but one of the other cooks had assured him was a fair and humble offer to any hobbit or dwarf working within the confines of the mountain. He would work four days in a row and then receive three days break to rest up before returning for his next shift. He’d also be working under the head baker Flar, a nearly ancient dwarf with a jolly disposition who liked to ramble on about the time old King Thror took him with them unto battle for Moria and Flar had killed an orc with his whisk and cheese knife. Tales of bloody battles aside, Bilbo quite enjoyed the others around him and got along rather well with everyone he encountered throughout the mountain.

For the first few days they had Bilbo running errands and help prepping for meals than actually cooking. Flar had Bilbo follow his sister Flor for one day, head scullery maid who was almost certainly the grumpiest dwarf Bilbo had ever encountered, but knew every tunnel and secret passage in the mountain probably better than even the King. Thankfully the kitchens were located only one floor below the ground level, where the dining hall was, so the hobbit’s regular routes would be restricted to the kitchens and up and not down the dark twisted halls of the mining caverns below.

There was always a flurry of activities going on; it seemed like there was never a dull moment between the singing, the cooking, and the cleaning. If Bilbo was more of a proper hobbit he perhaps wouldn’t have enjoyed himself half as much as he did. It took his mind off the Shire and his empty hobbit hole, and also his little bench under the tree at the top of the hill. In fact he’d been so occupied by his new employment that he’d barely thought twice about the dwarf he’d met or the jeweled bead he had locked away.

It wasn’t until he had just finished rolling some dough out for Flar to use later that Bofur, Bombur’s brother who sometimes stopped by to help but mostly caused more of a ruckus than any assistance, pulled him aside and asked him to run an errand.

“I’ve been called back down to the mines. Can you help me out and run these up to Master Fili and Kili’s room for me? They’ll be staying up there tonight instead of joining the others so Bombur received a request to bring the lads their dinner. You know where it is right?” He thrust two steaming bowls of stew into each of Bilbo’s hand and then Bofur started to herd the hobbit towards the exit.

“The princes!” Bilbo squeaked. He’d never met the two young princes but he’d heard enough about them around the Shire to know some things. Hobbit lasses liked to chatter on about how handsome and brave both young dwarves were and often giggle about how there’d never been a hobbit queen before. In contrast the older hobbits’ grumbled about the pranks the two liked to play or how baked goods cooling on the windowsill would disappear if the two were spotted anywhere around town. They didn’t sound like a bad lot, but Bilbo would like to stay out of trouble on his first week if he could help it.

“But I have no idea where their rooms are!” Bilbo kicked out his feet against the door frame and locked his knees, wanting to keep Bofur from pushing him out into the hall. “Isn’t there a royal butler or someone, who could take their dinner instead? I wouldn’t think I was allowed up there since Mistress Flor never showed me.”

Bofur grinned and gently kicked the back of Bilbo’s knees so he could shove the hobbit out into the hall without spilling the soup. “Nonsense, it doesn’t matter who brings them the meals just as long as they get it. Now just follow this hallway and at the end take a left, it will be the third large door on the right. It’s right next to the king’s room, which I wouldn’t recommend going in there unless you want a guard to spear ya through the liver, though it would help you distinguish where you’re at.”

Bilbo shuddered at the thought. Surely they wouldn’t spear someone just for accidently walking into the wrong room?

Bofur made a dramatic bow, sweeping the hat off his head and fluttering it forward in a corkscrew motion. “It’s a mighty help you’re being, Master Baggins, I tremendously appreciate it.”

“B-but!”

“I imagine the King would have my head on a pike if the Princes complained about not getting their food, so I’m greatly in your debt.”

Bilbo frowned. He had enough with dwarves and debt, but the idea of his new friend being so viciously punished just because of a late meal took him aback.

“Surely they wouldn’t--”

But Bofur was already turning the corner, the top of his hat brushing the floor as he shuffled backwards. “Thanks again, Master Baggins! Remember, third door on the right!”

“Mister Bofur, wait!” Bilbo called out but the dwarf was already gone and Bilbo was left standing in the empty hall with two bowls of stew quickly cooling.

“Oh _bother_ …”

He could always foist the duty onto someone else, Bilbo thought. Only what if they got distracted by something else and forgot? Would Bofur still be punished? Surely it wouldn’t be as drastic as the miner implied?

With a heavy sigh, Bilbo turned on his heels and trudged up the hallway towards the royal wing. He was a hobbit, he could just tiptoe in without being noticed and set the food nearby before trudging back to the kitchens for Flar’s next assignment with no one the wiser. The Princes would get their meal, Bofur wouldn’t get in trouble, and Bilbo had the extra time to do the task without it getting in the way of his other duties. Surely there was no harm in helping a new friend.

Bilbo gave himself a figurative pat on the back for being smart about the whole thing.

Mercifully, he didn’t get lost. It was his first time through these particular tunnels and finding the right door was simple enough. It was large and blue, with decorative carvings in the stone and so beautiful it could only have belonged to that of royalty. Bilbo had to take a moment to stare at it and remember all the details, for he most likely would never be up here again without good reason. He didn’t even get near the main door at the end of the hall, even though it looked grander than the one he stood in front of.

Bilbo lost a few minutes admiring the dwarven work and it wasn’t until he heard a loud noise inside the room that he remembered his task at hand, and also a few problems he hadn’t detected until now.

Was he supposed to knock or just walk inside? He wasn’t expecting the door to be closed since the Princes’ were expecting dinner, and the hobbit didn’t know the proper etiquette for announcing oneself to the royal family in their own bedrooms. With hobbits if you were expecting company it would be okay just to walk inside with only a small knock to announce yourself if the door was closed, but dwarves were different and Bilbo hadn’t gotten all their customs down yet.

Bilbo resisted stamping his foot in frustration. Surely this was a simple task if he would just screw up the courage to knock? He doubted they would punish him for that.

Then just as he was looking around for a table to set the bowls on, the door opened on its own.

“Oh! Sorry to…” Bilbo paused as he caught sight of the dwarf about to slip out of the room. It was _his_ dwarf!

“You!”

The dwarf startled, whipping around to glower at Bilbo as the hobbit smiled happily back.

“What? Ah, the hobbit. What are you doing here?” The dwarf shut the door firmly behind him and Bilbo scowled.

“I need in there.”

“What?” The dwarf moved to block his view, like Bilbo would magically gain entrance from somehow looking at the door over his shoulder. “This is the royal wing. What are you doing here and not back home in your hobbit hole. Run out of strangers to throw apples at?”

Bilbo sniffed, holding his head high at the offense. “I apologized for that. Now can I get through, I need to bring the Princes’ their dinner before it gets cold.”

That got him a raised eyebrow from the dwarf. “So you are a waiter in the kitchens?”

“No, I’m one of the cooks, just started this week. But one of my friends needed me to run this errand for him because he had to get back to his other job and I wasn’t currently busy. I should be asking _you_ what you are doing here instead. Do you work for the young princes?”

The dwarf gave him a peculiar look, pausing for a moment as he thought over his answer. Bilbo was kind enough to give him the time without rushing him. “I am their… guard.”

“Oh! That’s surprising,” Bilbo exclaimed.

“How so?” The dwarf’s brows furrowed as he glanced the hobbit over. Bilbo assumed he was doing his job to see if the hobbit was carrying a weapon to hurt one of his charges. If the dwarf had known anything about hobbits he’d have known what useless a task this was. Hobbits were only a danger to anyone if they were deathly starving and you carried on your person a large feast with no compunction to share.

“Um, well,” Bilbo knew it would be rude to inform someone that you knew of their deficiency or to speak publicly about it. “No mind. I’m sure you are very good at your job, you look like the type to take those things seriously. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my own chore and leave the Princes their meal. Can you please open the door for me?”

“If you are looking to bring Fili and Kili their dinner, then you are at the wrong door. They are in the room next to this one.”

Bilbo stepped back and looked back down the hall to the next door over. Bofur had said that it was the third door on the right, of that he was sure. Then again maybe the two rooms next to each other belonged to the brothers separately, and they were only taking their meals together in one instead of the other.

“Well, thank you, I appreciate the help.” Bilbo paused in the hallway. “You wouldn’t happen to know if I should just walk in? I know they are expecting someone to bring them their meal but this is the first time I’ve been asked to do this for someone of their high standing.”

The dwarf snorted and crossed his arms. He didn’t look like he was going to move forward and help Bilbo with the door. “Really?”

Bilbo felt his face flush. “I’m new to this. I grew up in the Shire and all my dealings with dwarves were limited to that in the market place, so I won’t take your teasing.”

“Now who’s being ignorant.”

Bilbo gaped at the words being thrown back at him from the other night. He’d called the dwarf ignorant for thinking the land around the mountain belonged to dwarves, so this was hardly the same situation.

“I am not being ignorant!”

“You should always knock before entering a dwarf’s dwelling,” the dwarf scolded. “To let yourself in without announcing oneself or without personal invitation is a grave insult. A dwarf’s room is their sanctuary and they rarely allow strangers inside no matter who they are.  ”

Bilbo felt his stomach drop. “They wouldn’t spear my liver or put my head on a spike would they, even if it was an accident?”

That earned him a small laugh from the tall dwarf. “Who is telling you these things? Surely you jest.”

“But you just said--”

“An insult which would require punishment and nothing nearly as bad as you are thinking. Where are you getting your information on dwarven culture? You think us that barbaric? We sound no better than orcs!”

Not wanting to get his friend in trouble, Bilbo kept his mouth shut and shook his head.

The dwarf looked angry again, fortunately not at Bilbo. “You should go to the library. I’m sure they have something there that can help you learn protocol. Ask for Balin, and if he’s busy, then Ori. They will take you seriously and not feed you these outlandish tales.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed in the library.”

The dwarf stared blankly back.

“I mean, I just, I’ m a hobbit. And a servant to boot. I doubt I’m permitted access to the library much less able to borrow a book.”

“That’s just absurd,” the dwarf said. “Whoever wants to is allowed to borrow a book, as long as it’s promised to be returned. And if you’re that scared of being chased off I’ll have a talk with the head librarian to know to expect you.”

Bilbo didn’t know what he thought about that. While the idea of being able to peruse the legendary shelves of the library of Erebor with permission was an unbelievable opportunity, he felt rather like he was being imposed to go by the dwarf’s tone. The sooner  the better.

“My work…” Bilbo looked down at the bowls in his hands.

“The library is open any time,” Bilbo’s dwarf grumbled. “Go when you have a free moment or afterwards.”

Bilbo’s heart softened towards the dwarf. He wasn’t well acquainted with the hobbit and he was going to great lengths to make sure Bilbo didn’t violate the dwarves’ system of conduct. It was very kind of him, especially after how their first meeting went. He would have to find a way to apologize and even things out between them; Bilbo was greatly in the dwarf’s debt now.

“You are very sweet, thank you.” Bilbo smiled openly up at the dark-haired dwarf.

The compliment seemed to fluster the dwarf greatly, the tips of his ears turning pink and his cheeks puffing up like a child trying to hold their breath. Bilbo felt a thrill go through him as he watched the dwarf struggle to muddle through a reply. From what he had encountered from the dwarf’s personality, he most likely wasn’t called ‘sweet’ often.

“Thanks.” The dwarf finally answered, crossing his arms and looking away. His posture fully signifying he was done with that line of conversation.

Bilbo chuckled and moved over to the correct doors.

“Ah, well, I appreciate you pointing me to the right room. It was good to see you again.” Bilbo juggled the bowls into one arm, trying not to spill it down his nice yellow working vest. He hadn’t thought it would take so much time dropping off the meal and the soup was maybe too cool by now to be enjoyed. Either way he at least needed to offer the food so the Princes didn’t think he forgot. He could run down to the kitchens for replacements if required.

“By Durin’s beard, give them here. You’re going to make a mess of everything.” The dwarf hurried forward to grab the bowls out of Bilbo’s hand. “I’ll feed the lads. You head on back to the kitchens where you belong.”

“Hey, stop it, I got them. You’re going to spill!” Bilbo couldn’t push the dwarf away and the two fumbled the bowls between them. Bilbo was able to hold tight to one of them but the other was yanked so hard out of his arm that it went flying into the dwarf’s chest, splattering thick red soup onto his chest and getting potato in his neatly braided beard. Bilbo watched with wide eyes as the soup dribbled down the nice blue long coat the dwarf was wearing.

“Oh no,” Bilbo gasped and stepped back. The dwarf looked like he was trying to rein in his temper, dropping the now empty bowl on the marble floor with a clank and fisting his hands tightly at his side. He closed his hard grey eyes and took a couple of deep, heavy breaths.

“I’m so sorry,” Bilbo looked around for something to clean the mess up. “This is just a disaster. I told you I had everything under control.”

The dwarf looked stunned. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

Bilbo had bent down and was trying to clean the mess on the floor with his handkerchief. “Well, it’s not _all_ your fault, being a victim of circumstance, but yes.”

“You are blaming me, when I was trying to help you.”

Bilbo didn’t know if the dwarf was just so unaccustomed for taking blame for his own mistakes or if his wits had left him again. He had seemed so normal earlier when they were talking about the libraries.

“It’s fine, we all have accidents,” Bilbo reassured him. “I told you I had a handle on it so you shouldn’t have yanked them out of my hand so hard. You will need to change clothes before the stain sets. Tomato is always a pain to get out.” Bilbo was acquainted with the cleaning staff so he’d need to hurry down there before anybody else noticed the mess.

The dwarf’s jaw clicked shut and he glared at the kneeling hobbit.

A young brunette dwarf peeked his head out the door. “We heard a racket, did something… Thorin! Are you--”

“Get back inside,” Bilbo’s dwarf growled menacingly.

“But--”

“Inside!” The older dwarf yelled and even Bilbo flinched back in surprise. The younger dwarf looked taken aback, glancing from Thorin back to Bilbo before quickly closing the door with a quiet click in the empty hallway.

“You probably shouldn’t have yelled at him like that.” Bilbo gave his sodden handkerchief a mournful look. “You needn't take your anger out on others and it was no fault of their own you spilt soup all down your front.”

“You are… possibly the most… _aggravating_ _halfling_ I've ever had the misfortune to encounter.” The dwarf spit out, face as red as the soup trickling down his clothes. The dwarf was doubtlessly embarrassed and angry, not that Bilbo didn’t blame him, but there was no reason for insults.

Bilbo looked sharply at the dwarf – Thorin he reminded himself –  and glared. “Now you are acting like a child with a temper tantrum, yelling and name-calling. I’m not _half_ of anything. Now go change and I’ll have someone clean up this mess while I get a new meal for the Princes, the other one’s gone too cold by now.” Bilbo thought about the occupant who had stuck his head out the door. “Then I think you should apologize to that dwarf, he did nothing wrong and you shouted at him.” And seeing as how the young dwarf had been in the room that Bilbo was supposed to drop off the meals in, it was probably one of the Princes. Even if Bilbo was annoyed with Thorin, he didn’t want him to get in trouble.

Never before had Bilbo seen such rage directed at him from anyone before. “ _I_ should apologize?”

“Yes. You were rude.”

“Me!” Thorin’s wits seemed to have left him completely.

Bilbo couldn’t stand around and argue with the dwarf all day. He gave his handkerchief an unhappy look, half the soft white cloth was now stained and even the tiny colorful flower stitching was indiscernible.

Getting to his feet with a huff, Bilbo grabbed the empty bowl that Thorin had dropped. “I’m leaving. If you want to stay here all day arguing about who was in the wrong that’s your thing, but you’ll be talking to the lanterns because I have things to do other than listen to you yell at me for your own blunders.”

“You’re leaving?” Thorin growled. He looked like he wanted to grab Bilbo and throw him out a window.

There was no way to depart without it looking like Bilbo was running away, so he shoved the half clean handkerchief against Thorin’s chest and scuffled back. “Clean up some. You don’t want to leave a mess when you head back to your room.”

“Y-you –!” Thorin made a grab for him.

“Sorry, can’t stay, things to do! Maybe next time we’ll meet on better terms?” Bilbo beat a hasty retreat and neatly avoided the dirty hands reaching for him. He didn't wait around to listen to Thorin’s reply, though there was a thunder of Khuzdul that followed in his wake, and before long he was quickly out of sight from the angry dwarf.

Bilbo dropped the two bowls back in the scullery on his way to tell the cleaning crew about the mess left in the halls and then backtracked to the kitchens to ask Bombur for some fresh meals for the young Princes.

“What are you talking about lad?”

“The soup,” Bilbo wrung his hands together, missing his handkerchief already. “Bofur said you got a missive from Master Fili and Master Kili to bring their dinner up to their rooms tonight.”

Bombur laughed heartily. “There’s been no such thing. My brother must have been playing a joke on ya, the scoundrel.”

“Surely not?” Bilbo inquired.

“Yeah,” Bombur smiled like he was remembering something pleasant. “He’s done this before. Those three have some kind of game going on, testing the mettle of their fellow companions. Yer smart to ask me about this errand first, doubtless ya would have walked into a sticky trap knowing them.”

Now Bilbo felt even more horrible, all this confusion and mess because of a little joke. He was never going to forgive Bofur for this!

“Why would he do that?” Bilbo asked in confusion. “I thought he and I were friends.”

The stout dwarf patted Bilbo on the back. “That you are if he’s sending you on fool’s errands and trying to get you into trouble. Mind you, the Princes most likely wouldn't have been mad, those two are a right cause of trouble themselves. And so it would have only led to some embarrassment. Could’ve been worse.”

“Worse?” Bilbo thought of poor soup-dribbled Thorin, who was most likely wandering the halls and cursing hobbits everywhere.

“Aye,” Bombur sighed. “They had Ori in tears last time, pretending to be angry and ordering the lad to the dungeons. Dwalin had to intervene or I think Nori would have had all their beards.” Bombur perked up. “Everything’s right as rain now, best of friends all of them –  except Dwalin and Nori, those two keep a leery eye on each other. The pranks just means Bofur likes ya, wants ya to be part of the company and introduce you to the two lads. That’s a good thing!”

Bilbo sputtered. “That doesn't even make sense. What kind of friendship, in the Shire– !”

Only Bombur was already toddling away to check on the pig spit roasting on the open broiler and Bilbo was left standing by himself in the kitchen in bewilderment. A dwarf he thought was his friend had sent him on a fool’s prank in the hopes of maybe getting Bilbo in trouble with the Princes as a sort of introduction. Only Bilbo had run into Thorin and gotten that dwarf mad at him instead, thus spoiling the original trick and getting one of the Princes most likely yelled at. He would have to talk to Bofur to have this all explained to him, because it just didn’t make sense.

Dwarves. Such a chaotic lot.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, I got more of a response than I was expecting! I thank everyone who's enjoyed reading this so far and for all the lovely comments and kudos. I churned this out as fast as I could, so if there's mistakes they are all my own. Its late and I'm super tired but this was a fun chapter to write, because the other dwarves are slowly trickling into the story now. Thank you everyone!


	3. Drinks with the Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur makes up with Bilbo and the hobbit is introduced to part of ‘the Company’.

****

 

Bilbo had to return to work the next day, so all night he thought about how he was going to approach Bofur about his prank. It was very odd, because no hobbit would subject a new acquaintance to a practical joke that had the potential to hurt another’s feelings. Even light teasing wasn’t something a hobbit would engage in until weeks after a relationship of sorts had formed, and yet Bofur had only known him a few hours before he had started to banter with Bilbo. At the time Bilbo hadn’t minded, but now he couldn’t help but think he’d given some signal to Bofur that had allowed him to escalate in his mocking.

He mulled over the situation for hours after returning home. Sitting in his cozy armchair by the fire, smoking his pipe-weed and blowing rings into the air, Bilbo thought long into the night. It wouldn’t do for him to return to work the next day and still be angry about it, it might distract him from his job, so he reflected about finding a good argument and planned to find Bofur before his shift to confront the dwarf.

Staring into the fire and watching the wood burn, different scenarios played themselves out in his mind, some good, others bad, and some downright cruel. Bilbo wondered at what the original prank had been, remembering Bombur’s story about the dwarf called Ori, and speculated if he would have had someone come to his aid if things had gotten too out of hand. He thought about Thorin’s unexpected appearance that had saved him from a no doubt cruel deception. The proud dwarf had even offered to take the meal into the room for Bilbo, and he could have ended up the victim of the prank instead.

Now Bilbo felt he unexpectedly owed Thorin his gratitude.

But first he needed an explanation, for how was he supposed to explain things to Thorin if Bofur didn’t explain himself first to Bilbo.

Bilbo went to bed that night with a determination of someone wronged and looking for justification, so it wasn’t a peaceful sleep. Rising with the sun, Bilbo did a few chores around the house. He had breakfast and second breakfast, hung some laundry out to dry before elevensies, and after luncheon went and bought some of the best Southfarthing pipe-weed he could find to leave up by the bench for Thorin and his men. He didn’t know much about the dwarf so he was rather limited on ideas for gifts, but one could never go wrong with hearty food or good pipe-weed. Next time he saw the tall dwarf he’d offer to make him a few desserts in thanks. Even if Thorin didn’t know he’d saved Bilbo, the dwarf deserved it nonetheless.

To put _himself_ in a better mood, Bilbo bought some mushrooms while he was out from one of farmer Maggot’s boys. He had the day off tomorrow so he planned to use them for a nice thick gravy over some roast and potatoes. If the confrontation with Bofur was dealt with, and then Thorin, if he was lucky, he’d have his explanation and hopefully their friendship and his favorite meal to set things right. Life could go back to how things were and he’d be the happier for it.

The laundry was finished by afternoon tea time, so Bilbo changed into his work clothes and headed up to the mountain long before his shift started. He wanted to find Bofur before the dwarf disappeared down into the mines for the day.

“You’ll find him with our cousin,” Bombur said. Bilbo had decided to cut down on half the time he’d spend searching for Bofur by asking his brother where he could find him instead.

“And where might that be?”

Bombur eyed the hobbit with suspicion. “What are you looking for him for?”

“I want to talk to him about yesterday,” Bilbo answered, standing tall at Bombur’s inquisitive look.

The dwarf gave a grunt, barely able to bend over to pull the jar of pickled beets from the bottom shelf of the pantry. “Aye, understandable. I heard the young masters got into a bit of a predicament, but they refuse to say anything about it. My brother’s been chatting my ears off about his theories on that.”

Bilbo wondered if that had anything to do with Thorin. Maybe as their guard he had some authority over the Princes, or the Princes were being decent and keeping quiet to save their guard the embarrassment?

“Would ya happen to know anything about that?” Bombur popped one of the beets into his mouth whole and the rest he dumped into a large cooking pan. After he finished chewing he gave Bilbo a confused look. “I thought ya didn’t run that fool’s errand they tried to send ya on?”

“Um, well,” Bilbo blushed, not wanting to explain the whole ordeal. “Can you just tell me where Bofur is, please?”

“Hm,” Bombur nodded. “Up in the outer bailey, he’s helping Bifur haggle for some wares. Heard there’s a peddler selling cloth from Eriador and everybody’s up there trying to get the finest product before it’s all gone.”

“Cloth?” It seemed odd that dwarves would be quibbling over cloth of all things. Bilbo hadn’t known dwarves were into the latest fashions or fabrics.

“Of course!” Bombur bellowed and one of the kitchen helpers was so startled they fell back into a pile of pans and couldn’t get out. Bombur continued on without notice, “For Durin’s Day! A whole week off to celebrate. Though we have to put up with those haughty elves, it’s still worth it to sit around and feast with everybody. There’s dancing and sports, though I don’t recommend playing in the archery games against those cheatin’ tree-huggers.” Bombur gave a jubilant laugh, “This one time, Prince--”   

“Ah, Master Bombur,” Bilbo interrupted. He already knew about Durin’s Day. Hobbits loved holidays, even if it weren’t technically their own to celebrate, they still took enjoyment out of partying with the dwarves. He’d just never seen the preparations from the dwarves’ side is all. “I need to talk to Bofur before my shift. I’d love to hear more about your story later, but I must go if I don’t want to miss him.”

“Oh, right, right. Off you go then.” Bombur waved him away and Bilbo headed up towards the main entrance of the underground kingdom.  He’d hardly been to the bailey himself, preferring to keep to the less crowded markets of the Shire. But every once in a while he had needed to visit a tradesman or blacksmith that stuck close to the entrance of Erebor and he had had to go whether he liked it or not. Today it seemed like it was twenty times more crowded than usual, dwarves and tall folk yelling and arguing over merchandise. Bilbo didn’t know how he was going to find Bofur in this mess.

The crowd surged around him, pressing him forward until he had no choice but to go with the mass of people pushing towards the open stalls. Elbows and hips hitting the soft vulnerable skin of his unarmored body, Bilbo was sure he would be sporting some curious bruises once he finally figured out how to get out of the throng of shoppers. Being so small compared to the people around him meant the others hardly took notice of him. There was an odd moment where Bilbo ran into another hobbit quite unexpectedly, a small curly haired girl clutching a roll of pink fabric who looked just as frightened as Bilbo felt, before she was sucked back into the crowd like she’d never been there in the first place. Heaving and sweating bodies pressing in around him, suffocating Bilbo and cutting off his view of the area they were in, he started to panic. The hilt of one dwarf’s sword knocked the breath right out of his gut and Bilbo stumbled forward.

“Heya laddie!” Then without warning, Bilbo was neatly plucked into the air by the back of his vest. The hobbit let out a shrill cry, earning a few sour looks from the people around him.

“None of that now,” a familiar voice said. “Ya looked to be in a spot of trouble there, Mister Baggins.”

“Bofur!” Bilbo had forgotten his ire at the dwarf with his timely rescue. Never before had he been so happy to see someone. “Oh thank Eru!”

Bofur laughed, dropping Bilbo back onto his feet and keeping hold of the hobbit’s shoulders until he was stable. “Don’t know what you were thinking, trying to get through this crowd at this time today.”

“I was actually trying to find you. Bombur said you’d here.”

“That fool. Coal between the ears, Da used to say,” Bofur guided Bilbo out of the crowd with ease, not afraid to elbow or push someone out of the way. “I planned to find ya myself before your shift ended tonight. I got a few questions for ya.”

They came to a stop against the far wall, where another dwarf who had a fading resembles to Bofur was waiting.

Bilbo stopped short and stared impolitely. There was part of an axe half imbedded in the dwarf’s skull!

“Mister Baggins, my cousin Bifur.”

The dwarf said something softly in Khuzdul, put a fist to his chest, and bowed. 

“Oh,” Bilbo came back to himself in time not to seem rude and gave a polite bow in return. “It’s good to make your acquaintance, Master Bifur.”

Bifur said something to Bofur that Bilbo didn’t understand and made him quite concerned with the wild hand motions directed towards the hobbit.

“I know, I told him already. Oddly formal those hobbits are,” Bofur answered his cousin. Turning towards Bilbo, Bofur translated. “He would like you to call him by his name. None of this ‘master’ stuff, makes him uncomfortable.”

Bilbo wouldn’t want to make a dwarf like Bifur uncomfortable, so he nodded and tried to look away from the impaled weapon sticking out of the dwarf’s head. “Of course, I’m terribly sorry.”

“Right, so what’s this about you looking for me?” Bofur asked.

“Um,” Bilbo looked around at the crowd. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

Bofur raised an eyebrow but nodded. Helping his cousin with some of his purchases he led them away from the packed bailey. Bilbo followed a few steps behind the two dwarves through the large stone entrance of the mountain and into the first keep, where there was a side tunnel that Bofur corralled them into for privacy.

“Alright, this good?”

Bilbo sighed and gave his friend a nod. “Yes. So, um, okay…” Now that he actually had Bofur’s attention he was unsure how to actually start the conversation in a way that didn’t sound accusatory. Only Bofur gave him an expectant look so the hobbit jumped right into the main conflict he had against the dwarf.

“You really hurt my feelings with that joke you tried to play on me.”

Bofur looked taken aback. “What? I thought you somehow got out of it?”

Bilbo continued under the two dwarves scrutinizing expressions. “Yes and no. Bombur explained some things to me, but I would like to let you know that I didn’t appreciate you sending me on that fool’s errand to the Princes’ room. If I hadn’t been waylaid by someone else I fear that the joke might have gone too far.”

“It was just a joke, lad. Meant no harm by it at all.”

“Still.” Bilbo held himself as tall as he could. “A hobbit would never play a joke like that on someone they just met, much less one that can cause embarrassment or hurt feelings. Doing something like what you did was a tantamount to a great offense by my people. It would be the equivalent of saying you had no regard for my friendship at all. I also don’t know the Princes at all, and I’m afraid I must admit that I’m still not very familiar with dwarven culture, and I almost insulted them without knowing. I was told I could have been punished for that mistake if someone hadn’t stopped me first.

“Oh.” Bofur took a step back and seemed to think about what Bilbo had said. “I didn’t know. I told the lads about ya and they wanted to meet ya. We just thought it would be fun to have them meet ya in a less informal setting, nothing like what their station would call for.”

“Still…” Bilbo tried to see it from their point of view. He was sympathetic to the idea of meeting the young Princes in a more relaxed setting, but jokes and tricks were hardly the setup to a good relationship between friends. “If you were my friend you wouldn’t have exploited my vulnerability or jeopardized the trust between us.”

Bifur slapped the back of Bofur’s head and gave his cousin a grunt. Bofur looked proper chastised. “My apologies, Master Baggins, I didn’t know. We were only trying to include you into our company. We didn’t know it would caused a misunderstanding.”

Feeling like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulder, Bilbo gave the dwarf a small smile. “It’s fine, I understand it was a mistake and you meant no harm by it. I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t appreciate it and I don’t like being lied to.”

  
“Oh no! I’m very sorry, we meant no harm,” Bofur repeated. “Us dwarves just like to play tricks and pranks on our friends – especially new ones, to get a sense of their character. We meant no insult to your hobbit nature.”

“A-alright.” Bilbo sighed with relief. He had held onto the hope that Bofur hadn’t done the prank because he didn’t like Bilbo. It was something he’d entertained in the back of his mind but didn’t really think too hard on since there hadn’t been any known discord between the two.

“If ya don’t mind me asking, what did happen between you and the Princes? They’ve clammed right up about it.” Bofur scratched the back of his neck, making his braids wiggle in the air.

“I didn’t actually meet them,” Bilbo admitted. “I spilt the soup all over their guard before I could even knock on their door.” Which wasn’t exactly accurate, Thorin had caused the soup to spill all over himself because of his own clumsiness, but it would be better not to mention that to Bofur. No need to cause confusion or bring to light Thorin’s discomfiture to another dwarf.

The mining dwarf laughed, looking at little more reassured than he did earlier. “Well, in that case would you like to meet them in a less _ceremonial_ manner? No jokes, I promise. We’re heading to the Red Dragon inn tonight for drinks and the lads are going to sneak out and join us.”

The proposal held some merit. Bilbo had never met royalty of any kind before, except for that fleeting glance in the hallway yesterday. The closest he came to was a relative of his, Paladin Took II, who was Thain of the Shire, and that in no way was held in as high esteem or noble grounds as members of the monarchy.

“They won’t get in trouble?” Bilbo thought of poor Thorin, who was tasked with watching the two princes. Should he warn the dwarf or let things play out?

“Naw,” Bofur waved his concern off. “They do it all the time. I’m sure their mum knows about it and all, Dwalin’s usually there anyways so it’s not a safety concern.”

“Then I accept.” Bilbo smiled up at his friend, glad that things had been cleared up and that there would be a proper meeting between him and the Princes. He would have to go home to change first, if he didn’t get out of the kitchens too late, but he was sure his nicest jacket was still aired out from a few weeks ago.

The three dispersed after making arrangements to meet up after Bilbo’s shift. Bofur and Bifur hauling their purchases back to their rooms and Bilbo heading off in the direction of the kitchens.

When he got there, Flar was squinting at a note with a look of concern across his bushy brow.

“Hobbit, those pies you make, the ones with the extra cinnamon and sugar on the crust.” Flar gestured Bilbo over. “Would you be up to making extra tonight?”

“Of course, Master Flar,” Bilbo agreed, looking around at the disarray in the kitchen. Cooks and helpers were running about trying to get things ready for dinner tonight without a care to the mess they were making.

“Good, seems like we have an order from upstairs that’s asking for them specifically. Won’t say who, but they’re asking for the ones made the other night. Appears you might have a fan already!” Flar pocketed the note and hustled Bilbo towards the counter where there were three large bushels of red apples waiting.

Bilbo worked on the pies while Flar prepared the other desserts. The repetitive motions of rolling the dough out and slicing apples lulled Bilbo into a trance. He hardly had to think about what he was doing, it was so familiar. He pondered about the explicit order to have his pies at the dinner hall tonight; if it was usual or if someone important had developed a taste for them?

Later when the scullery staff was working hard to clear the dishes, Flar shooed Bilbo off to enjoy the rest of the night. Bofur was waiting for him out in the halls, and with a wave to Bombur the two set off for Bilbo’s hobbit hole. Bifur would meet them later it seemed, the dwarf needing to talk to a seamstress before she closed and supposedly there was already a line waiting to see her.

“Just for a quick change, you see.” Bilbo swiped at the flour dusting his sleeves.

Bofur shrugged, following along to the western door that led to the Shire. “It’s fine. We’re early anyways so we have the time and I wouldn’t mind seeing the inside of a hobbit hole.”

“There’s nothing particularly spectacular about them,” Bilbo reassured. “It’s very clean and neat, not dirty, smelly, or worm infested.”

“I never said it was!” 

“No, but I’ve heard what dwarves think about our dwellings. Just because we live in the earthy ground doesn’t mean we don’t live comfortably.”

“Well, even more reason for me to see it then, lad, don’t ya say?” Bofur gave Bilbo a sly smile. “That way I can spread the message that hobbits don’t live like moles.” 

Rolling his eyes, Bilbo led the dwarf out the entrance specifically made for the hobbits and down the cobblestone footpath to Bag End. Some of his neighbors gave them queer looks, mostly because they’d never seen this particular dwarf as compared to dwarves in general, but they mostly kept on with their gardening and last minute chores without saying a word to the duo.

At the entrance to Bilbo’s home, Bofur stopped short.

“You can come in, I give you permission.”

“Well, I wouldn’t like to assume my welcome after this morning,” Bofur said.

“Everything is fine. It was all a misunderstanding.” Bilbo left Bofur in the hall entrance as he wandered into his bedroom to change. His favorite red velvet jacket hung on the back of his bedroom door. After exchanging his soiled yellow vest for a green one, he slipped the jacket on and joined Bofur back in the hallway.

“If you’re still having trouble with dwarven customs, I can teach ya anything ya don’t understand.”

“That’s very nice of you, thanks.” Bilbo wondered if he could still go to the library even though Thorin might still be mad at him. Not that he didn’t trust Bofur anymore, but maybe reading a book would lessen the embarrassment Bilbo would get asking so many questions. Thorin had said that anyone could visit the library and it wasn’t like he had the power to ban Bilbo from going. “I’m ready now if you’ll lead the way.”

“Right, right.” Bofur gave the hobbit hole one last look. “Very nice place ya got, looks a lot better inside than from the outside. A lot more room too!”

Laughing, Bilbo pushed the dwarf out of his home. “Come on, let’s go before we’re late.”

The Red Dragon inn was situated on the main road between Dale and Erebor, providing mostly rooms for visiting or traveling dwarves and a large pub on the bottom level that catered to pretty much anybody and everybody. Hobbits would sometimes go there to get a barrel of Dorwinion wine for special birthdays or on Overlithe, especially if one was looking to impress their neighbors with high airs.

Tonight there was a tolerable amount of people bustling around the inn, a group of humans singing along to a dwarven verse, a couple of elves playing chess by the fire, and the cluster of dwarves that Bofur steered towards. Bilbo could see Bifur already there, the dwarf waving his arms around as he explained things to a red-bearded dwarf who nodded back in sympathy. Even the Princes were there, hoods half over their faces and backs to the fire. Hardly anyone noticed when Bofur pushed Bilbo into a seat at the end of the table. It wasn’t until the jovial dwarf called for two pints of ale that the others did turn to look at them.

“My friends, I am here to introduce ya to our newest companion.” Bofur made a sweeping motion in the air in front of Bilbo. “This here is the estimable, admirable mister Bilbo Baggins of Bag End from the Shire. He works with my brother in the kitchens and was the creator of those delightful pies we had the other day.”

Most of the dwarves grunted a greeting and quickly went back to talking amongst themselves, not a bit concerned about the hobbit now in their midst.

Taking the pint the inn keeper offered, Bilbo took a wary sip. The taste was bitter, not as bad as some of the ale from the east, but felt satisfying on his tongue and relaxing to his muscles after a tense day. He took a large gulp to chase away his nerves.

“Now, how about an introduction!” Bofur took a seat between Bilbo and a grey bearded dwarf in brown coat.

“This here is Óin, one of the resident healers in Erebor.” Bofur patted the dwarf next to him on the back. The dwarf turned around to glare, an ear trumpet in hand.

“What did you say?”

Bofur ignored him and continued around the table. “That’s Glóin, Óin’s brother, a fine fighter and first-rate accountant. There’s Dwalin at the end, oh and Dori! They’re both warriors you see, some of the strongest Erebor has to offer. Nori’s the one over there, you know, I’ve quite forgotten what it is he does. My cousin Bifur who you’ve already met. And last but not least, our resident royalties, master Fili and master Kili.”

Fili and Kili were watching Bilbo with gawking expressions, and Bilbo was almost sure they hadn’t blinked once since he walked into the inn and sat down. 

Since he got locked in when a group of men took up the bench to the table behind them, Bilbo couldn’t stand and greet the Princes with a proper curtsy, so he awkwardly lowered the top half of his head and shoulders in a sort of bow across the table. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Majesties. Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

The two young dwarves continued to mutely stare at the hobbit.

“Oi, none of that now. I won’t have you teasing Mister Baggins here,” Bofur said to the young dwarves.

“We aren’t teasing him,” The blond, who Bofur had pointed out as Fili, answered.

“Yeah,” Kili, who looked _very familiar_ to Bilbo, set his pint onto the table with a thunk. “We just wanted to get a good look at the hobbit that’s caught– ”

Fili elbowed the young brunette dwarf sharply in the ribs and Kili broke off his sentence to hit his brother back. They whispered urgently between each other until Fili hit Kili up the side of the head and as one they both turned back to look at Bilbo. 

“Right, sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were the hobbit I saw yesterday. The one that spilt all that soup upon Tho– the… guard.”

Bilbo blushed heavily, he could feel the heat all the way to the tips of his ears. “Yes, terribly sorry about that.”

“Now don’t go apologizing to them, Mister Baggins,” Bofur butted in. “You gave me a sound tongue lashing about the prank. I won’t see you letting them off because they’re princes. They’re already spoiled brats enough I’d say.”

Bilbo gasped, hands fluttering to his chest in shock at Bofur’s casual disregard for decorum. Fili and Kili were laughing though, snickering about ‘tongue lashing’ and protesting humorously about being brats. The older dwarves around them seemed to nod and grunt, agreeing that the Princes indeed were ‘spoiled brats and if their uncle had a lick of sense he’d bend them over his knee and spank them’. This sent the Princes howling with laughter that they nearly fell off their bench.

Dwalin said something curt in Khuzdul and the Princes turned their attention to him, freeing Bilbo to enjoy his drink without stares and prompting Glóin into a conversation about his wife and son. This appeared to be a subject Glóin appreciated because Bilbo found out more about the dwarf’s wife Ovrimi and son Gimli than he knew about his own relatives. Glóin’s nagging mother-in-law, Ovgrima, happened to also be a subject he was willing to talk about at great lengths.

Bilbo was already into his second pint and nodding along to Glóin’s story about the virtues of axe wielding against pesky mother-in-laws when someone squeezed between Bilbo and the dwarf with nary a care of interrupting.

“So, Mister Boggins,” Kili tried to put an arm around Bilbo and the hobbit twisted back. Kili frowned but continued on with a pout. “My brother and I would like to extend an apology. Bofur has told us that playing a prank is a great insult to a hobbit, and we meant no insult.”

“Well, Your Highness,” Bilbo muttered, looking away. “Playing pranks aren’t totally an insult, just when you are new acquaintances. It takes months for a hobbit to trust someone well enough to find humor in another’s slight against them.”

“We meant no slight,” Kili promised, scooting forward until Bilbo was pressed tight against Bofur’s side. “Just a bit of fun. No harm meant.”

“Um, uh, alright. I understand, Your Highness, Bofur explained it to me.” Bilbo didn’t like the earnest look the young dwarf prince was giving him. He had a feeling it was used to get out of fixes the Princes probably should have been disciplined for.  

“Good. So, do we have your forgiveness?” Fili pleaded from across the table.

“Of course!” Bilbo was surprised the issue even mattered to the Princes. They should be worried more about state business or important concerns of the kingdom than a hobbit’s feelings about being teased.

Bilbo fiddled awkwardly with his cup. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence an idea hit him!

“Your guard…” Bilbo paused, wondering how many guards the Princes might have and if he should be more specific. “Uh, Thorin.”

Kili sat up and moved closer. “Yes?”

“Um, uh,” Bilbo suddenly felt like whispering now that the prince was so close. “I just, after yesterday, the a-accident. I feel terribly sorry.”

“We heard it was his fault, not yours,” Fili was leaning halfway across the table. The other dwarves paid no mind to the Prince’s bad manners and kept on talking around him.

“Well, yes,” Bilbo admitted. “But still, he got caught up in the whole mess and I didn’t even offer to help clean his clothes. I feel terrible about it now.”

Kili muffled a laugh against his fist.

“I w-want to make it up to him. Do you happen to know if there’s a dessert or something I can make for him? I wouldn’t want him to still be angry with me about it, especially after I threw that apple at his head on our first meeting.”

Both Fili and Kili were biting their lips, eyes bright with elation as they shared a look between them.

“Hmm… well, we know he happens to like apple pie, but that might have changed since you hit him,” Kili said.

“No, no!” Fili called out. “I saw him at dinner tonight, he was hoarding the pies like they were the last in all of Middle-Earth.”

That made Bilbo blush, pleased that someone he knew admired his cooking at least unknowingly.

“Oh, well, I’ll have no problem fulfilling that order.” Bilbo thought about how he seemed to be making apple pies all the time now. He’d be making them in his sleep before long. “Anything else? I can make him a meal too. Is there anything in particular he likes?”

Kili raised an eyebrow and Fili stroked his braided mustache.

“He’s never shown any preference until the pies. As long as I’ve known him he eats whatever is put in front of him.”

“Except lettuce!” Kili cried out. “He’s not overly fond of greens, like most dwarves.”

Bilbo blinked in surprise. He hadn’t known dwarves disliked greens, he’d seen the cooks preparing meals with them all the time.

“Ah, I forgot!” Bilbo could have hit himself for forgetting. “He works for you –  does he even have a day off?”

That question brought the Princes up short.

“I mean, since he’s not here now I figured he doesn’t work _all day_ does he?”

The Princes looked at each other, a silent message passing between them with hand motions and wiggling eyebrows.

“He doesn’t… always guard us, some days he spends with the king or doing other things,” Fili answered with great reluctance.

“Wow, he must be terribly good at his job. Protecting the king even though he’s...” Bilbo slapped a hand over his mouth abruptly and looked away.

Maybe knowing a secret had almost been spilled from Bilbo‘s startled expression, Kili perked up and pulled the hobbit closer. “What? It’s fine to tell, I won’t say anything. If it’s about Thorin I might already know.”

The drinks must have gotten to Bilbo faster than he’d imagined, because he felt only a small bit of hesitation in responding to the inquiry. Surely if Thorin protected them, they knew about the dwarf’s shortcomings?

“Well, his…” Bilbo wiggled his fingers around his temples, trying to say it without communicating it out loud.

The dwarves squinted at him in bewilderment. “He has spiders in his hair?”

“The grey around his temples?”

“No!” Bilbo leaned forward and whispered quietly so only the two could hear. “Him being… a bit… _simple_.”

The two reared back like they’d been hit, eyes wide and mouths gaping. Bilbo jumped in surprise and nearly spilt his cup at their odd reaction.

Fili recovered first, almost scuttling across the table to hiss under his breath, “You think Thorin is a simpleton?”

“Um, well…” Now Bilbo wasn’t sure. By their response he’d obviously been wrong, or maybe talking about it was a major taboo in dwarf culture.

“By Aulë’s hammer, he does!” A large grin split across Kili face and he bounced in his seat. Fili slipped back into his bench with a stunned expression.

Bilbo had a sinking feeling he’d made a horrible error. “I-I’m guessing he’s not?”

Kili made a sound like a warg dying and pulled Bilbo against his chest, petting the hobbit on his dark-blond head. Bilbo tried to push him away but the dwarf proved to be too strong.

“Hey!” Bofur, who hadn’t been paying them any attention, leaned around Bilbo and pushed Kili off the bench. “Give the lad some room to breathe, you overgrown pup! He doesn’t need you sitting in his lap to tell him stories.”

Bilbo gave a frightened gasp as Kili rolled down the floor to Dwalin’s feet. The larger dwarf picked the Prince up like he was an unruly kitten, giving Kili a shake before dropping him back onto his feet for the Prince to slink back to his brother at the other end of the table. There the two started up their whispers and staring again.

Mortified that he’d been wrong about Thorin, Bilbo just drank more and ignored them. Rethinking every interaction he’d had with Thorin and coming up with wild excuses should Thorin ever find out what Bilbo had first thought of him.

Eventually in the night he’d broken ground with Glóin, Óin, Dori, and Nori. Dwalin didn’t look particularly interested in talking to him and usually spoke Khuzdul to the others which Bilbo couldn’t understand. Bilbo asked questions about the others’ jobs and hobbies; the dwarves loved talking about their trade so there was much to speak about. Bilbo learned the best way to deal with a burn made from fire, how to pick a lock, and even some good investment advice from the dwarves. Just sometimes Bilbo wasn’t able to keep up with their discussions and was left floundering awkwardly mid-conversation. They weren’t exactly friendly by Shire standards, a little rough around the edges, but they weren’t a bad lot once you got used to them.

They reminded him a lot of Thorin.

After a few more cups it was getting too late for Bilbo to stay out. He was already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol and didn’t want to wake in the morning with a hangover. The elves in the corner had already retired, and the inn keeper kept yawning from his place behind the bar, so after finishing the last of his ale Bilbo patted Bofur on the back.

“I’m heading home, it’s late.”

“No, stay a bit more!” Bofur pleaded, ale dripping down his beard.

“I have a lot of work to do around the house tomorrow.”

“Isn’t it your day off?”

 “Yes,” Bilbo said. “And that’s even more reason I need to get to bed now so I can get up early. I had fun, I’m glad you invited me.”

“You’re one of us now so you have an open invitation to join us anytime!”

Bilbo let Bofur and Bifur pull him into a hug. The others gave him varying degrees of warm goodbyes from their seats as Bilbo headed towards the exit. Kili looked about ready to follow before Dwalin pulled the young dwarf back onto the bench with a stern glare.

Bilbo stumbled out into the cool night breeze, happy to have things settled and to have made new friends, especially after the long night the day before spent worrying. He took a deep breath and felt his head clear. He had things to plan and he still needed to fix things with Thorin, so tomorrow looked to be just as busy, even though he had off work.

With the coming day quickly approaching, Bilbo sobered up for the walk to Bag End. He turned towards the direction of the Shire with a firm bearing and on his first step on his long walk home ran right into the grey robes of a towering wizard standing right in his path.

 

****


	4. The Lesson of Gardeners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin confronts Bilbo about an oversight.

****

 

Bilbo was sitting down and enjoying a nice cup of mid-afternoon tea when there was a pounding at the door.

He peeked out the window and caught sight of a tall grey figure pacing in front of the door. Bilbo rushed forward to answer, thinking it might be the person he’d met last night on his walk home. Only, when he opened the large green door, it wasn’t a wizard waiting.

“ _Halfling_.” Thorin growled through his teeth, large hands against the frame of the door and strands of dark hair falling into his face as he glared down at the hobbit.

“Thorin!” Bilbo squeaked, shrinking back behind the door as if to hide.

“You think of me as a half-wit.”

Bilbo blushed and muttered, “Master Kili said they wouldn’t tell you about that.”

“ _Master_ Kili was the only one who promised, _Master_ Fili made no such oath.” Thorin held himself from entering Bilbo’s house, but he looked strained with the temptation to cross the entrance and strangle Bilbo nonetheless.

“I-I’m so sorry!” Bilbo pleaded. He couldn’t believe Master Fili, tattling on Bilbo like that – if the young dwarf wasn’t a prince Bilbo would give him a talking-to!

“You should.” Thorin pulled back and fixed his rumpled black and grey surcoat. It looked to be a little too large for the dwarf about the waist and too tight around the shoulders. The kingdom’s crest was sewn over the heart of the guard’s uniform, sparkling gold and blue in the sun. “ _Me_. A half-wit!” The dwarf snorted in derision.  

Now that Thorin didn’t look so hostile, Bilbo felt his courage return. “Well, if you didn’t let your temper take hold, you wouldn’t act like such a simpleton!”

“My _temper!”_ Thorin began to pace on the front porch again, looking like a hungry tiger denied its meal by an invisible cage.

“Yes.” Bilbo stuck his nose in the air. “Every time we’ve met you’ve thrown a temper tantrum, and I’ve had to repeat myself multiple times in all our conversations. What else was I supposed to assume but that you were a little slow?”

“ _Slow!_ ” Thorin was spitting mad, quite literally, frozen across the door step and face turning purple with rage.

Bell Gamgee’s curly blond head peeked around her white picket fence at the commotion, gardening spade in hand as if to defend herself. Thorin followed Bilbo’s gaze and the hobbit woman squeaked in fright, rushing inside and slamming the door quickly shut.

“You are being a nuisance now, disturbing the neighbors.” Bilbo put a hand to his hips and gave the dwarf a stern glare. Thorin had startled him with his anger when he first saw him, but now Bilbo was no longer scared that the dwarf would actually be violent. “Can I trust you to hold your temper in check?”

Thorin sputtered.

“I will let you inside so we don’t embarrass ourselves even more than we have,” Bilbo said. “But you must promise not to let your anger get the best of you.”

Running a hand through his hair and down his beard, Thorin seemed to get a hold of his rage enough to appear agreeable, the red fading from his cheeks. “Yes. Fine.”

Bilbo stepped back to let the dwarf in. Thorin was huge, not in the sense that he was extremely tall or overly round, but his very presence seemed to fill Bilbo’s hobbit hole, sucking the air out of the room and making one feel tiny next to him. For a hobbit, this was most discerning, since hobbits were already small in comparison to begin with.  

Thorin looked around Bilbo‘s humble dwelling, a general air of superiority about him and the way he looked at Bilbo’s belongings. He gave a dismissive glance towards Bilbo’s mother’s china cabinet and modest furnishings, scuffed his boots on the Beleriand rug in the walkway and tracking mud onto the hardwood floors.

“Shoes!” Bilbo cried out, shutting the door behind the dwarf.

“What?” Thorin spun around, looking about his feet like a creature might be scurrying around biting ankles.

“Your shoes,” Bilbo mourned all the cleaning he would have to do again. “You’re tracking mud everywhere, take them off.”

“You want me to take off my shoes?”

Bilbo felt like a mother trying to discipline an obstinate child, or maybe a farmer trying to work with a stubborn mule. He looked at Thorin’s boots intently and tapped his own bare feet against the floor.  

After a moment Thorin slowly knelt down to struggle out of his shoes, eyes narrowed as he watched Bilbo standing in the hall waiting for him to finish.  

“Do you want me to take your cloak?” Bilbo asked. He himself was wearing his usual garments, a casual cotton blouse and knee-length trousers, and felt much underdressed next to Thorin’s rich cloak and embroidered tunic.

“Do you wish me to strip to my under-things also? I dare say hobbits are a lot more audacious than I ever imagined,” Thorin teased, hopping to his feet hurriedly. 

Bilbo gave a chuckle, though he felt the tips of his ears warm up. “Don’t be silly. It’s just a nice day and I thought that attire might be too hot to enjoy the day in.”

Thorin passed over his long coat for Bilbo to hang on the wall. With shoes off and cloak gone Thorin’s presence didn’t seem so overbearing. In fact he looked startingly exposed, and only then did Bilbo notice Thorin had come over without a weapon or at least none that he could see. Bilbo resolutely didn’t make mention of it.

“Come on in, I was just having tea and snacks.”

Thorin sauntered about like he had been to Bag End before, walking with a confidence not usually known to those first visiting a hobbit hole. Bofur had made it seem like dwarves not related to a hobbit weren’t usually invited inside, and after he’d heard many dwarves speculate about what a hobbit’s dwelling looked like, he’d assumed Thorin hadn’t known either and would be more cautious walking around. But Thorin headed straight to the dining room, where tea was steeping and provisions ready to eat.   

Thorin looked at the seat Bilbo motioned to with a skeptical-raised eyebrow. If Fredegar ‘Fatty’ Bolger could sit on it and have lunch with Bilbo than Thorin certainly could too, Bilbo thought.

“Do you like muffins?” Bilbo asked, shuffling around Thorin to make sure everything was prepared, not waiting for the dwarf’s reply. He hadn’t expected company, much less Thorin of all people, so he had cooked mostly his favorite foods. Bilbo pulled down his late mother’s favorite paisley blue crockery and set them upon the table. The tiny teacup and delicate china plate looked ridiculous in front of the dwarf, but they were the best set for company. The muffins were already buttered, the sandwiches chilled just right, and the scones cooled enough not to burn the tongue, so Bilbo took a seat across from Thorin and gave his guest an expectant look.

“Eat.”

“Were you expecting company?” Thorin bit into an almond and poppy seed muffin. “This seems like a lot for just you.”

Overlooking Thorin’s awful manners of talking with his mouth full – since it seemed like if he got onto Thorin for all his impolite behavior all their conversations would be him criticizing the dwarf for something or other – Bilbo added some sugar to his own tea and sipped lightly.

“Shows what you know of hobbits. This was originally all for me, but I don’t mind sharing.”

Thorin’s grunted, flicking crumbs off his beard. “All of it?”

“Yes, us hobbits like to eat.”

“So do dwarves,” Thorin shot back, like Bilbo should be impressed.

“Do you have six meals a day also?”

Thorin blinked in surprise. “Well… no. Just three large meals. Feasts, as I’m sure you are aware of, working in the kitchens.”   

“That I am,” Bilbo answered smoothly. He didn’t want to get into an argument about the virtues of hobbits versus dwarves, so he stuffed a muffin into his mouth and chewed slowly in the hopes that Thorin would let the subject drop.

An awkward silence crept in as they both ate. Thorin seemed only able to look at everything but Bilbo, for every time the hobbit looked up Thorin was turned towards the kitchens or straining to look behind him.

Finishing off two muffins and a croissant sandwich, Bilbo dabbed at his lips with a napkin. “Thorin,” he said.

Thorin’s eyes focused on Bilbo.

“I want to apologize and thank you. For what happened in the hallways. You tried to be nice and I repaid your kindness with disrespect.”

Thorin sighed, sounding aggrieved. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve been told multiple times it was my fault.”

“Well,” Bilbo said. “Some of it, yes. But I didn’t even offer to help you clean up.”

The dwarf gave a shrug. “It’s fine.”

“Did the soup ruin your clothes? They were such a pretty blue and I would feel bad if you had to throw them away.”

“No,” Thorin said. “The cleaning staff had no problem from what I hear. Enough about the soup, I’ve heard as much as necessary about it.”

“But,” Bilbo bit his lips. He didn’t know if he should explain the whole thing to Thorin, about the trick the Princes and Bofur had tried to play? At least Thorin should know why he was up there in the hall. “The whole thing happened because of me. A friend was trying to play a joke, nothing harmful you see, just a silly misunderstanding. I wasn’t even supposed to be up there in the first place.”

Leaning his elbow on the table, Thorin watched Bilbo closely as he tried to explain the whole thing, leaving out names where he could, though he was sure Thorin at least knew when Bilbo was talking about the Princes because he rolled his eyes when their part was mentioned. Thorin didn’t interrupt or ask questions, just listened quietly with a gaze of heavy attentiveness as Bilbo talked. It was very stimulating, and Bilbo ended up talking more about it then he probably should have.

“So you went to the inn with them after your problems were resolved?”

“Oh yes,” Bilbo poured some more tea into Thorin’s cup. “I made some new friends too.”

“Oh?”

“You might know some of them, maybe even work with them. Bofur said something that made me think one of them might also be a guard.”

“What is their name?”

“Dwalin?”

Thorin who’d been in the middle of sipping from his teacup, choked. Tea was dribbling down his chin and beard, small drops even fell on his tunic. Bilbo was beginning to think all their interactions from now on would end in soiled laundry.   

“Oh! Maybe not? Bofur just said that the Princes’ mother would be okay with them sneaking out if Dwalin was there, and then Bofur mentioned that he was a warrior. I just assumed.” Bilbo passed Thorin an unused napkin so the dwarf could clean up.

“I know of him,” Thorin said once he composed himself. “We… work together. He‘s one of my brothers-in-arms.”

“You’re related?” That surprised Bilbo, he hadn’t seen much resemblance between them besides being big and thick with muscle. And ill-mannered. But that could just be a dwarven trait in general.

“A comrade, soldier, is what I meant.” Thorin looked upon Bilbo like he was odd. “I am distantly related to him though.”

“Oh, that’s good. So we both know someone of acquaintance. Well, kind of. He didn’t really talk to me.”

“Dwalin is not one for idle chatter.” Thorin glanced at Bilbo from over his cup. “Did you enjoy your new friends’ company?”

“Very much so! I learned much about Glóin’s family, and Óin and Nori told me much about their trade. The Princes weren’t as terrible as I was expecting, a bit odd with their staring and whispering, but not a bad pair at all. I found their company somewhat enjoyable. And Bofur was kind enough to offer any help I needed with learning dwarven customs and Bifur– ”

Thorin set his cup down heavily. “Why have you not gone to the library like I told you?”

Bilbo blinked. “I was unsure if you’d told the librarian to expect me still. I thought after the incident you might have _convenientl_ y forgot. I planned to go there sometime this week when I had off, just to see if what you said about anybody being welcome is true.”

“You think I would go back on my word because I was upset over _spilt soup_?”

“No, no,” Bilbo back-pedaled. He didn’t want it to sound like he was accusing Thorin of lying.

“I don’t know about hobbits, but when a dwarf says he’ll do something, he will.” Thorin tore into a sandwich, teeth tearing the buttered croissant in half. “I talked to the master librarian that night. He’s been expecting you and already has a few books on hold for you to look at.”

“I– I… thank you. That was very kind of you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Thorin said gruffly, swallowing his food.

Thorin’s irritation was clear from the furrow of his brows, so Bilbo offered a scone in hopes to appease the dwarf. Usually food could lend to mending wounded feelings between hobbits, maybe it would be the same for dwarves. 

After stuffing the scone into his mouth, Thorin inquired, “What did you converse with the Princes about?”

“Not much,” Bilbo admitted. “They apologized for the trick. We also talked about you.”

“Me?” Thorin sat up, eyes wide.

“Yes, well, um, I confessed to thinking you simple when they told me you sometimes guard the King.”

Thorin’s scowl appeared again.

“They set me straight,” Bilbo said quickly. “I think they got a lot of amusement out of my error though, they kept giggling like children the rest of the night.”

A bit of honey drizzled onto Thorin’s thumb and the dwarf licked at the digit with due diligence. “Hmm, yes, I’m sure they did. They are both very childish still. Immature to the duties of their station.”

“Sorry,” Bilbo apologized, pulling at his collar. It had gotten suddenly hot in his hobbit hole and he wondered if it would be prudent to open a window to let some air in. “I think you are being too harsh. Aren’t they still young by dwarven standards?”

“Yes, but they are both princes. No matter their age they have responsibilities. They have obligations as heirs and they shouldn’t be sneaking out to pubs to joke and drink with commoners.”

“Excuse me!” Bilbo was offended not only on his behalf but those of his friends‘ too. “I didn’t know you were such a snob, Thorin.”

“What?”

“I happen to be a commoner by dwarven standards. Are you saying the Princes are too good to have drinks with me? That _I_ don’t deserve their companionship?”

“You’re different,” Thorin grunted, looking cornered.

Bilbo was confused by Thorin’s arrogance. Thorin himself was not someone of high breeding, and yet he seemed okay with the idea of the Princes being held above commoners. Although to Bilbo, Thorin’s pride didn’t seem to lend to the idea that he would appreciate someone as young as the Princes to be held in higher esteem. Was it simply a principle of his station as their guard or a dwarf custom? The others from the inn hadn’t seemed to treat the Princes any different from each other, so maybe it was just Thorin? “They are young, let them enjoy their youth before the burden of kingship falls onto their shoulders. There is nothing wrong with them being with commoners. I think it will make them much better monarchs for being so in touch with their subjects than other kings.”

“What other kings do you know of, Bilbo Baggins?” Thorin smirked, like he knew a secret.

Bilbo was suddenly quite shocked that Thorin knew his name, realising rather suddenly that he’d never introduced himself to Thorin in all their meetings. He wondered if he had learned it from the Princes and felt ashamed to have ridiculed Thorin’s manners when he himself had been rude this whole time.

“W-well, I’ve never met one before. Most hobbits hardly care who wears a crown on their head, even in Erebor or Dale – unless there is a war. I dare say I wouldn’t have know Master Fili and Kili were princes if Mister Gamgee hadn’t pointed them out when they snuck into his field and stole his prized pumpkin last autumn. I have heard stories though, of old and distant kings.”

Thorin leaned forward as if to bid Bilbo to speak more.

“The Elvenking of the Woodland realm.”

Thorin held up a hand to stop him. “Say no more. I _completely_ understand.”

“Have you met him?” Bilbo was very curious on the subject of elves, even from his formative years. He’d always wanted to travel to Rivendell after hearing stories about his mother’s travels, before her marriage to his father. Sitting before the hearth as she ran a brush through his unruly curls, her magical tales of great journeys through Middle-Earth and the people she encountered. The elves traveling through the Shire to Dale usually didn’t have time to sit with a hobbit to talk about themselves, so Bilbo often had been left watching them from afar instead of gathering the courage to persuade them into conversation.

“Sadly,” Thorin grumbled. “He traveled from the Greenwood forest to pay tribute to my… King when the Arkenstone was found. He and his people will be returning for the thousandth year celebration of Durin’s day.”

“Oh, so I might get a glance of him?” That sounded exciting.

“Better you not,” Thorin warned. “Thranduil is an old King but he isn’t a pleasant one.”

“I doubt I’ll talk to him!” The idea was just silly. An insignificant hobbit nonchalantly talking to a king – how absurd! But maybe with an influx of elves visiting, he’d be able to find one who’d be willing to talk. “I know a little Sindarian, I wonder if I could talk to one of the elves and have them critique my grammar.”

Thorin’s face grew darker and his frown deepened. “You speak Elvish? Why not Khuzdul when the Shire is so close to Erebor?”

“You forget, Thorin,” Bilbo wagged a finger at the dwarf. “Dwarves keep their language secret from outsiders and are very reluctant to teach it, even if a student is willing to learn.”

“Yes, I had just… forgotten.” Thorin’s mouth twisted into a mulish expression.

That surprised a laugh out of Bilbo and he felt the tense atmosphere disperse. Thorin gave the impression he didn’t like to talk about elves and almost seemed insulted that Bilbo had any interest in them. Bilbo cleaned up his plate and after a nod from Thorin, took the dirty dishes to the kitchen sink.

“Do you have the day off?” Bilbo called out as he ran the dishes under the water.

It was silent in the other room for a long moment and Bilbo wondered if Thorin had heard him. Turning the faucet off, Bilbo wiped his hands on a towel and headed back into the dining room.

“Thorin?”

“Hmm?” Thorin was inspecting a tapestry of Rivendell hanging on the wall.

“Are you off today? I planned to make you a dessert as an apology, but I also wouldn’t mind some company for dinner if you have the time to spare.” Bilbo watched Thorin’s back as the dwarf tensed and Bilbo speculated at that. Was he so unused to the kindness of others or someone wanting to spend time with him that it put the dwarf on edge? It was very strange.

Unless Thorin didn’t want to be here.

The idea that Bilbo was the cause of Thorin’s distress bothered the hobbit greatly. Twisting the towel tightly around his fist, Bilbo took a step back and glanced at the floor. “It’s alright if you have other things to do. I shouldn’t have assumed and you have a very important job. Your time must be very valuable. Oh dear, and I forced you into tea time with me! This is _terrible_.”

“Stop,” Thorin barked, whirling around and startling Bilbo so badly he tripped back into his chair. “You haven’t forced me into anything. If I _had_ wanted to leave I could have anytime I wanted. I dare say you couldn’t have stopped me if you tried! As for the rest of my day, I am free to do with my time as I wish. And I wish to spend it with… _you_.”

Thorin’s confession seemed to startle Thorin as much as it did Bilbo. They caught each other’s eyes and quickly looked away, Bilbo blushing hotly.

“T-that’s good. I mean,” Bilbo stuttered, wrangling for a topic not as stirring as the idea of Thorin seeking out Bilbo’s company for his own enjoyment. The very idea caused the hobbit’s heart to flutter and toes to curl in pleasure.

 Glancing at the handsome dwarf, Bilbo licked his lips and said, “I can make some pie. I heard it’s your favorite.” For one could always fall back on food as a subject of conversation.

Thorin grunted, scratching at his chin as he studied the wood carvings on the crown molding. 

 “Do you like mushrooms?” Bilbo squeaked, folding the towel into a tiny square. “I just ask because I planned to make gravy with roast and potatoes for dinner tonight.”

“Mushrooms? You eat that cavern fungus?”

Bilbo looked up and caught Thorin’s frown. “Um, not the kind that grows in caverns, no. These are from the ground and fairly tasty when cooked.”

“Ah, that makes sense. There are mushrooms that grow in the caverns near the river that flows under Erebor. They tend to make dwarves sick who eat them. But I will eat what you prepare.”

“You mean what _we_ prepare.” Bilbo gave Thorin an enormous smile, an idea coming to him.

“ _Excuse me_?”

 ****

Celandine Brandybuck was passing in front of Bilbo Baggins‘ house when she had to pause to stare at the scene taking place in the garden.

“Mister Baggins, is that a _dwarf_?” The hobbit lass called out, holding her basket of flowers against her hip.

Bilbo looked up from where he was showing Thorin how to pull carrots out of the ground; the dwarf tended to pull too hard and only get the stalk instead of the vegetable. Thorin had stripped down to his smock and linen trousers, and with the heat beating down on him had to borrow Bilbo’s old straw hat to keep shaded from the sun. He no longer looked so much like a dwarf with his thick hair and braids pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck – if one didn’t look too hard and notice the lack of hair on Thorin’s feet or excess of facial hair, that is.

“Hmm? Oh, hello Miss Brandybuck! Off to the market today?” Bilbo replied over the tomatoes, swatting at Thorin’s hand when the dwarf reached to steal the trowel while Bilbo was distracted.

“Well yes. But…” Celandine gave the two a perplexing look.

“Well, have a good day then!” Bilbo smiled back and then turned around sharply to growl at Thorin, unconcerned if the hobbit lass was still watching or not. “What is wrong with you? Are you not a dwarf – shouldn’t you be good at digging into the earth?”

“Not this kind of earth,” Thorin grumbled back. “Mountains, stone caves, deep caverns –  give me a pick axe and I could tunnel to Khazad-dûm _. Curses,_ put me on a hill and couId not dig to find a potato if I was starving!”

Feeling sympathetic at Thorin’s frustration, Bilbo leaned forward and set a hand gently over the dwarf’s. “You are just trying too hard.”

“Dwarves were not meant to plow the earth and harvest food.” Thorin looked up at Bilbo beseechingly, and with the sky bright and cloudless overhead the hobbit swore Thorin’s eyes had appeared to be blue. “We are meant to find sparkling gems and veins of gold and mithril lodes.”

“Here, let me show you,” Bilbo cupped Thorin’s hand under his, the dwarf’s hand weathered and dirty under the pale smooth skin of the hobbit’s own. A large, bulky silver ring obstructed Bilbo’s guidance until Thorin quickly removed it and put it in his pocket.

Bilbo taught Thorin the proper strength to use to pull, when to dig around the vegetable and loosen the soil, and why not to get mad if the carrot was not as large as expected. 

“If you are patient with your work and attentive to what grows, your labors will be justly rewarded because of the efforts you extended them. You might not get what is anticipated but that doesn’t mean it is not a fine gift to receive. Here, try.” Bilbo pulled his hands back reluctantly and cleaned the small carrot of dirt with his shirt. “It is sweeter than the others, no?”

Thorin didn’t look excited about eating a carrot just out of the ground, but he did as Bilbo asked. The creases around his mouth smoothed out as he chewed and a glance of surprise was directed at the hobbit. “You are right.”

“Hobbits have a saying that you can tell a lot about a person by the state of their garden,” Bilbo told him non-sensically, taking the carrots they had pulled and bedding them into their basket of vegetables already picked. They had enough now to add to the roast so it wouldn’t be too bland.

“You hobbits are a strange bunch,” Thorin gave Bilbo a small smile under the brim of his hat. “Using gardens as a measure of one’s character. What if there was a freeze and all the plants died through no fault of your own?”

Bilbo stood and brushed dirt off his knees. It had been a good idea to have Thorin help him make the dinner, he thought. “Well, there‘s always a slip-up made once in a while, usually when you are first starting out. But we learn from them and keep an eye on the weather so we don’t make the same mistake twice. If you are lucky you get a good gardener like I do, and you learn from him the secrets of the earth that your parents forgot to tell you before their passing.”

“Ah…” Thorin went quiet, the brim of his hat covering his face as he knelt on the ground, fingers digging into the earth like he wanted to secure himself there for eternity. Bilbo watched him, silently hesitant to ask what was the matter. The sun beating down on Thorin’s back cast a long shadow across the ground. Something vulnerable about Thorin’s hunched back made it seem like a moment was needed to let his guest experience something immense coursing through him, so the hobbit retreated a step.

“Thorin?”

Dull blue-grey eyes gazed up at him and Bilbo understood.

“I’m going to take these inside and wash them properly. Can you put the tools back into the shed?”

Thorin barely acknowledged the request, not that it bothered Bilbo. He recognized the reaction of one taken by surprise by the memory of a lost loved one. He saw it every day when he awoke and looked in the mirror. Some days he’d catch sight of the knitted sweater his mother had made for him last winter, packed in the back of his dresser, or come across her half-finished quilt lying out in the spare bedroom. And he would need to sit down for a few minutes to hold back the tears. It was almost like everywhere he went in Bag End he breathed her essence and was choking on the sensation of missing her. It had been a few months since her passing but Bilbo still dearly missed his mother. 

Bilbo washed and pealed the carrots, cutting them up and adding them to the cooking pan, the whole while watching Thorin. The window over the sink gave him a clear view of the side garden where the dwarf was slowly gathering the tools around him. Thorin held the trowel up and flicked the blunt end with his thumb. Giving a hoarse laugh he placed the garden utensil in the cloth bag and stood to wander over to the shed.        

Thorin let himself in through the back door, this time wiping his feet on the mat before tracking any dirt into Bilbo’s home. Wrinkles still creased his forehead but the twinge of loss was no longer heavy on Thorin’s brow. 

“Want to help?” Bilbo offered the dwarf a paring knife.

Thorin held the knife like a weapon, causing the hobbit to laugh.

“No! Oh goodness, have you never cooked a day in your life? We are peeling potatoes not _skewering_ our enemies.” Bilbo knew that the dwarves usually ate communally, but surely some of them cooked for themselves once in a while? Did Thorin not have friends to help or family to scold him into lending a hand?

“I’ve never had need to cook, only to eat.” Thorin smiled enough to show teeth.

Bilbo giggled, shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back the laugh that threatened to explode out of his belly. Thorin glanced between Bilbo’s face and hands, watching the hobbit closely as he was taught how to peel and then slice the vegetables. They seasoned the meat together, and Thorin took direction from Bilbo on how to chop the mushroom and mix the gravy. Bilbo didn’t want to tempt himself into spoiling his meal by eating bits of the mushroom so he made sure to stay at the other end of the kitchen while Thorin worked.

Once the pan was ready, Bilbo asked Thorin to place it into the oven while he mixed some flour and butter for the pie crust.

“Do you need help with that?” Thorin leaned over Bilbo’s head to watch. The rocking motion of kneading the dough caused Bilbo to bump into Thorin’s chest on every back stroke. It was highly intimate and Bilbo felt his cheeks pinken, wondering what the warrior dwarf was thinking standing so close to Bilbo and watching him make his dessert.   

“N-no, I’m fine. I did this all evening in the kitchens yesterday, it’s about second nature to me now,” Bilbo said softly.

Thorin’s heavy breathing tickled the shell of the hobbit’s ear. “Mmm, smells good.”

Bilbo understood. The sliced apples marinating in the spice and lemon juice next to his elbow were emanating a pleasant aroma. The scent wafting from the bowl was sweet; the apples seasoned just right and the brown sugar mixing with the cinnamon to make the most perfect bouquet to tickle the senses. He couldn’t have agreed more with Thorin. This would be his best pie yet!

“Ah,” Bilbo stepped aside so he wasn’t in Thorin’s way. “Can you do me a favor? I need the rolling pin from the top shelf of that cabinet.” 

Thorin followed Bilbo’s finger and saw the utensil he was asking for. For a hobbit, he’d need a stepping stool to reach that high, but a dwarf was just right to stand on their toes to reach it without problem.     

After passing Bilbo the pin, Thorin took a seat at the table and watched Bilbo work.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said. “You’ve been a great help to me today.”

Thorin shrugged. “I was probably more help here than I would have been elsewhere.”

“Tell me about your job.” Bilbo wanted to know more about his friend. What the dwarf did, who he encountered, about his life in general. “I must say I don’t know as much about you as I would like to.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” Thorin admitted and turned away. Now that the dwarf wasn’t looking, Bilbo took the time to study his guest. There was a comfortable air about Thorin’s person now, like he’d found the soothing atmosphere of the Shire and Bilbo company amiable, and was quite content here. There was an expression of bliss on his face as Thorin watched out the window at the children running and giggling up the path. The moment in the garden had to have relieved something in the dwarf, lifting a heavy burden from his shoulders, for he seemed more relaxed.

“What do you usually do on your days off?” Bilbo asked politely, trying to draw some answers out of Thorin. He didn’t think Thorin did anything terribly secretive, but working for the royal family had to mean that he couldn’t talk about some things. 

“I usually don’t get much time off,” Thorin said. “Or time to myself. This is the first in a long time I haven’t been bothered by others constantly.”

“Is your work very demanding?”

“Yes. But I don’t mind.” Thorin turned to watch Bilbo, chin on his hands as his hooded gaze focused on the busy hobbit. Bilbo felt a shiver go up his spine, unused to such undivided attention. He covered the shaking of his hands by pressing the crust harder into the pan, pinching the edges too sharply so that the crust broke. He swore gently, shooting a quick glance at Thorin to see if the dwarf had noticed and saw his guest smirking in amusement.

“Don’t tease! You are making me flustered.”

If anything Thorin’s smile widened. “I am but watching you. How is that teasing?”

“You know how.” Bilbo had to turn his back on Thorin, afraid that if he looked at Thorin any longer he’d melt into a mess of nerves and embarrassment. He could admit to himself that he found the dwarf’s appearance handsome and company stimulating. And there was a manner about their interactions that might meant the feelings were mutual – if the heavy looks and silent exchanges were to be believed.

Thorin hummed.    

“Back to you,” Bilbo rushed. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m but an old and boring dwarf.” Thorin leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, eyes never leaving Bilbo’s figure.

“You don’t look that old to me.”

“I am a hundred and seventy eight.”

Thorin was smiling smugly when Bilbo whirled around to gawk at him. “I know dwarves age differently, but you don’t look _a day_ over 40,” Bilbo said.

“Mahal, you think I’m but a stripling?”

“What? No!” Bilbo fumbled with the bowl of cut apples. “I fear there’s been another misunderstanding.”

Instead of looking insulted, like Thorin typically did when Bilbo said something insensitive he hadn’t known was an offense, the dwarf roared with laughter. 

“Worry not, I know you meant no slight against me.” Thorin’s mirth easing. “You really should get a hold of those books the way you blunder into mistakes. If you’re not careful the next dwarf you encounter will not be as lenient as I and you’ll end up on the wrong side of an axe with no idea how you got there.”

“I promise I’ll go tomorrow,” Bilbo said. He’d had no other problems with dwarves except Thorin it seemed, thankfully. The dwarves he worked with had most likely overlooked his mistakes because he was a hobbit and new to their kingdom’s ways, but soon that indulgency would end.

“You know…” Thorin twisted the silver clasp of his braid between his fingers. “I have a few hours respite between my duties tomorrow. I can meet you there and help you decide which book to choose from.”

Bilbo was just rolling the last of the crust over the pie, brushing butter and sprinkling sugar on top before setting it inside the oven next to the pan of roast. A few more minutes and dinner would be ready. “You would? I would very much like that.”

Bilbo found he liked spending time with Thorin and was disheartened that the day was going by so quickly. He was good company and the hobbit didn’t mind the light teasing, mostly because Thorin didn’t mean it to be cruel. So planning to spend some time together tomorrow sounded like an excellent idea.

“Does around noon sound agreeable?”

Bilbo had a visitor planned to stop by in the evening tomorrow, so that was perfect. “That’s fine,” Bilbo said. “Do you want to grab something to eat afterwards?”

“You hobbits and your eating,” Thorin looked upon Bilbo indulgently. “But sadly, I cannot.”

“Oh, alright.” Thorin didn’t seem like he was going to expand on why exactly he couldn’t, so Bilbo let it drop.

After dinner was eaten and both were a great deal into scrapping the bottom of the pie pan empty, Bilbo sought out some way to keep the dwarf there longer.

“Before I forget! Wait here.” Bilbo folded his napkin and jumped to his feet.

“Hmm?” Thorin pulled his fork from his mouth with a succulent pop, a bit of apple and cinnamon juice shining on the corner of his lips. “I think my stomach is too full to move even if I wanted to. You could hold me prisoner here if you continued to feed me like this every day. A most exquisite dungeon.” 

Chuckling, Bilbo rushed to his room and grabbed the small box beside his bed. Quickly returning he caught Thorin mid-lick across his plate. The dwarf swiftly put the plate down and stood up straight.

Bilbo smiled, pleased that his guest had enjoyed the meal and dessert. He handed the small wooden box to Thorin across the table.

“I wanted to return this. Since we are friends now, I didn’t think it was prudent for me to keep it. You shouldn’t have to owe me any longer for an honest mistake.”

Thorin lifted the lid, thick busy eyebrows rising when he caught sight of what was inside. “My bead?”

“Yes, it’s worth a lot more than a barrel of pipe-weed. I feel terrible that I cheated you like that.”

Thorin snapped the lid shut, a morose expression on his face. “It was mine to give. I care not about the worth of it compared to pipe-weed.”

“But you said last time–”

“Forget what I said,” Thorin yelled. “I have changed my mind. If you call yourself my friend you would not ask me to take this back.” The dwarf thrust the box back towards Bilbo.

Bilbo hadn’t expected Thorin to act so passionately about the bead. Maybe there was another cultural oversight happening that Bilbo didn’t understand.

Bilbo’s hands closed around Thorin’s and the box. “Alright. I’m sorry, I just felt bad that I owed you a large debt. I now accept this bead as a testament to our new friendship.”

Thorin slowly withdrew his hands, fingers caressing gently against Bilbo’s. “Yes. _Friendship_.”

A spark in the dwarf’s eyes had Bilbo gasping for breath. His knees trembled and he was afraid if he didn’t sit down that he would stumble over himself. “I still owe you a debt though. How would you like me to repay you?”

“I would absolve all debts between us if I thought you would agree to it,” Thorin said. “But I know you won’t, so I will think of a fitting way to balance thing between us and tell you tomorrow, if that is acceptable.”

“If that will please you.”

“It _would_ ,” Thorin looked down at Bilbo,”please me.” The setting sun shining through the windows and enlightened the room in gold and the painted stained-glass windows broke rainbows across the floor.

A child’s happy squeal from outside jogged Bilbo from distraction, bringing to focus how close he and Thorin had gotten and how long they’d been looking deep into each other’s eyes. Taking a step back, Bilbo cleared his throat.

“I–I’m sorry I kept you so long, but I’m glad you stayed for dinner.”

Thorin opened his mouth to say something, but he must have thought better about it and shook his head instead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow still, right?” Bilbo asked, the box clutched tightly against his chest.

“Yes,” Thorin said gruffly. “Tomorrow. In the library. I’ll be there.”

Bilbo smiled and walked Thorin to the door, grabbing the dwarf’s cloak as he put on his shoes. Once the dwarf was ready to go, they both paused.

“Thank you,” Bilbo practically whispered. “For choosing to spend your time with me, I appreciate it.”

“No, I must thank you, Mister Baggins. It has been a pleasant day, and far more enjoyable than any other in a long time.”

“Surely not,” Bilbo bit his lip and glanced up at Thorin through his lashes.

Thorin sighed heavily. The tension once missing from his shoulders now returned.

“Well, if you ever have some free time, I’d be happy to spend it with you,” Bilbo rushed, afraid that maybe Thorin was telling the truth about how miserable his days had been in the past. “If I’m not working that is, and usually that’s only in the evenings. S-so please, call on me whenever you please.”

Smiling softly, Thorin lifted his hand as if to caress Bilbo’s cheek but paused midair. “I just might. Farewell, Mister Baggins. I will see you tomorrow.”

With that, Thorin swept out of the hobbit hole and down the path towards the mountain, never once turning back to look at the lonely hobbit that watched after him.  

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally the Arkenstone was found in 1999 the same time Erebor was settled by the dwarves, so technically Thror didn’t find it during his reign. Movie canon fail. I’m trying to stick more with the movie timeline though so I guess we’ll say the Arkenstone was found a lot later. And ugh, I’m just gonna round it to a full 1000 years ago that Erebor was settled, but let’s assume the character ages are the same from the movie and it's year 2941. I had to mess with the timeline somewhat to have things fit, sorry. I also switched book Thorin and book Balin’s age around, originally Thorin was 195 and Balin was 178, but in the movie Thorin looks younger. I’m not really one to assume Thorin just ages well.
> 
> Garden quote: “A garden requires patient labor and attention. Plants do not grow merely to satisfy ambitions or to fulfill good intentions. They thrive because someone expended effort on them.” -Liberty Hyde Bailey “


	5. A Dwarf's Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo visits the library and there is conflict between Thorin and him. Then Bilbo is called upon by a wizard.

****

 

Bilbo peeked into the large hall hoping to catch a glimpse of Thorin, afraid that he was about to be spotted and expelled.

The library was designed with towering green limestone pillars, gold leaf painted high ceilings, lush elven-made carpets, and engraved wooden floor to ceiling bookcases filled with every book a small hobbit could image, and probably more. The room seemed to go on and on, with no end in sight. It all nearly took Bilbo’s breath away.

If dwarves coveted a treasure hall filled with gold and jewels as high as the eye could see, than this hobbit desired nothing more than to spend every last of day on Middle-Earth in the aisle of Erebor’s library perusing the shelves and reading every last word inked onto pages.      

Bilbo looked wildly around from his hiding spot behind one of the pillars. The Master Librarian was sitting behind an ornate granite desk, suspiciously glancing up towards Bilbo’s direction from over his glasses and not saying a word. The old dwarf flipped through a large manuscript, fine leafy pages crinkling loudly in the silence of the hall, nonchalantly acting like a hobbit hadn’t wandered into his gilded hall.  

“Are you hiding from someone?” A voice whispered from behind Bilbo, startling the hobbit.

“Eru take me,” Bilbo cried out, so frightened out of his wits he forgot about being quiet.

“Sorry, sorry!” The young dwarf held his hands out in sublimation, eyes wide as he looked at Bilbo. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought you were trying to hide from someone, since you were concealing yourself behind the pillars.”   

Bilbo held a hand to his racing heart, afraid it might beat out of his chest. “You scared me!”

“I’m sorry,” the dwarf repeated. “I wasn’t trying to scare you on purpose.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Bilbo took a few heavy breaths to calm his nerves.

The dwarf cocked his head to the side, his oddly cut blond hair brushing against his shoulders. “Are you lost?”

“What? No,” Bilbo said. “I’m waiting for someone. He told me to meet him here, but I don’t see him yet.”

“Well, usually there aren’t that many people here. Maybe I can help you.”

Bilbo smiled gently at the young dwarf. “That would be kind of you. Do you work here?”

“Yes,” the dwarf smiled back, his cheeks flushed with pride. “My name is Ori, I’m assistant to the Master Scribe of Erebor.”

“Master Ori, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Bilbo Baggins, I work as assistant to the head pastry-cook down in the kitchens.”

Ori took Bilbo’s offered hand and shook it wildly like someone who’d only read about handshakes and never experienced one before, his grip nearly too tight for the hobbit to bear. “You’re a hobbit. I didn’t know any hobbits worked in the kingdom.”

“Some do,” Bilbo pulled his hand back and cradled it against his stomach, wondering if a few bones were not bruised. The dwarf took no notice of Bilbo’s action or wincing frown. “We usually cook or clean, but most of us hobbits like to stay in the Shire and work jobs there instead.”

“That makes sense. I’ve read a little about hobbits, if you have the time I’d like to ask--”

Ori was cut off by the librarian at the desk calling out something in Khuzdul. The young dwarf went still, freezing like a mouse spotted by a cat and slowly glancing over his shoulder towards the large desk. Ori said something back, and the older dwarf pointed a feather quill towards Bilbo.

“Right, sorry. Um, what can I help you with today?”

Somewhat relieved, Bilbo nodded his head. “Well, I’m looking for Thorin, a dwarf guard. He’s supposed to help me with some books.”

“T-Thorin?” Ori’s face went pale, jumping back from Bilbo like he’d asked for Sauron himself. Bilbo stared at the young dwarf in surprise, unsure why he was having such a reaction to Thorin’s name.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No! Wait, are you sure you’re looking for--”

There was a loud commotion at the doors and the dwarf in question rushed through, slamming the heavy doors behind him and glowering until he spotted the hobbit. Then Thorin stood straight, ran a hand down his beard and fixed his cloak, all the while his gaze anchored towards Bilbo like a hungry wolf on a wounded sheep.

“Mister Baggins!”

“Master Thorin,” Bilbo called out, happy to see his friend. Ori seemed to swoon beside him.

Thorin sauntered forward, boots heavy against the thick rugs and gait steady until he was standing before the two. He frowned at Ori, said something quick in Khuzdul that had the young dwarf tripping over his feet to get away.

“Now,” Thorin smirked at the hobbit. His beard looked especially intricate today, with tiny gold bells weaved into the plate and a large emerald jewel tying it off, its color rather brought out the pink of Thorin’s lips. “Let’s find those books you need.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo sighed heavily, hands going to his hips with an exasperated frown. “You should be nicer. Ori works here, he was just trying to help me find you.”

“Well I am here now, so he is not needed.” Thorin put an arm around Bilbo and led him into the aisles. The scent of heavy herbs and smoke issued from the dwarf, like Thorin had just been smoking pipe-weed before meeting him. Bilbo felt sort of bereft that the dwarf hadn’t thought to share some with him also.

“I thought--” Bilbo looked over his shoulder towards the librarian’s desk, were Ori and the old dwarf were whispering heatedly. Snug against Thorin’s side though, the hobbit felt restrained to go and apologize for his friend’s behavior. Maybe someday there would be a day where he wasn’t disheartened by Thorin’s manners, but today wouldn’t be that day it seemed.

“Come, I don’t have much time.”

“But,” Bilbo muttered, glancing up at Thorin’s strong profile. “You said you had a break. If you are busy we can do this another time.”

“No, I said I would help you and I will.”

Only it seemed Thorin didn’t quite know where or what he was looking for, because they ended up wandering down each aisle with nary a pause to glance at a book’s title. He kept catching glimpses of books that drew his interest but Thorin would pull him back before he could even draw the book from its shelf.  Bilbo appreciated the help the dwarf offered, but unless there was an actual destination in mind he didn’t see the point in wandering around like lost pilgrims in the Haradrim deserts when they could just as easily ask for help.

They had made it to the back corner of the grand hall, where a reading nook was located; a cozy spot with high back chairs and twinkling lanterns overhead, and a general atmosphere of serene luxury. It would be an ideal reading niche, if one was looking for a snug and intimate place to sit for a few hours and withdraw from the real world.  

“Thorin,” Bilbo gently tugged on Thorin’s thick coat, pulling his eyes away from the soft fluffy chairs and up towards the determined dwarf. “Maybe we should ask the head librarian for the books? You said he had them on hold didn’t you?”

The tall dwarf drew up short. “Ah, you are right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bilbo said kindly. He didn’t want Thorin to feel embarrassed, the dwarf already looked flustered and Bilbo didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable on top of that.

“Yes, well, I just wanted to escort you here first. I’ll return with the books.” Thorin pulled his arm back from around the hobbit, fisting his hand by his hips as he set a swift pace back towards the desk where Ori and the elderly dwarf were waiting. Bilbo jogged behind him, not wanting Thorin to carry the books by himself.

It seemed at least one of the dwarves were expecting their return and had two stacks of books piled at the corner of the desk.

“I thought you might be needing these, Master Thorin.” The old dwarf pushed the pile forward. There had to be at least twelve books total, each as thick as any Clan tome to be found in the Shire and wider than Bilbo’s head. He dearly hoped they all weren’t part of one collection, surely there was a smaller version for outsiders to read about dwarven customs?

Thorin grunted, taking both piles in his arms and promptly turning back to the corner nook. He gave Bilbo a scowl when he caught sight of him, holding the books tighter against his chest and he headed back towards the way they came.

“Come Mister Baggins, I got this.”

Bilbo sighed heavily, shooting Thorin’s retreating back an exasperated look. “I’m sorry about him. We thank you for all the trouble you’ve gone through to help us.”

“Think nothing of it.” The old dwarf held up a hand to silence Ori when the younger dwarf looked like he was going to interject.

“Right.” Bilbo raised an eyebrow at Ori’s moaning gibberish, but since there seemed to be no outward reason for the young dwarf’s disturbance, there was nothing Bilbo could do to ease his distress. “Yes, right. I’ll, um, follow Thorin back…that way.”

As soon as Bilbo’s back was turned the two started up in frenzied Khuzdul again, Ori nearly hysterical in trying to get his message across. The only thing distinguishable to the hobbit was Thorin’s name, so it must have something to do with the dwarf.

“What took you so long?” Thorin scowled at Bilbo when he finally returned to the corner spot and took a seat across from the dwarf.

“I was thanking them.” Bilbo picked up the first book, a work of dwarf dance styles. “I think you’ve done something to terribly upset Ori. I heard them talking about you.”

Thorin glanced up from his careful examination of the book in his hands. “What did they say?”

“Not anything I could understand, just your name a few times.” Bilbo set the book he was flipping through aside and picked up another. While dance styles sounded interesting, it wasn’t something that could help him to stop insulting Thorin unnecessarily.

“Ah,” Thorin smiled smugly to himself. “Don’t worry about it.”  

“Thorin…” Bilbo looked the dwarf over with a disbelieving eye. He was dressed up rather nicely today, in blues and greens, with shiny gold buttons and thick fur collar. There was also an excess of gold jewelry around Thorin’s neck and fingers, which only made his appearance even statelier than when he was decked out in silver mail and bright blue wool. And with Thorin’s smug smile it just had an overall effect of one very pleased with himself.

“Have you been up to something?” Bilbo asked, curious about his friend’s odd behavior and dress.

“Of course not.” Thorin flipped the book shut and tossed it over his shoulder. Bilbo squeaked loudly, jumping from his seat to recover the poor book from under a chaise. He dusted the cover off and saw it was a book on dwarf stonemasonry.  

“Thorin! I can’t believe you! You should treat things more gently,” Bilbo scolded. He plopped back into his chair and glared over the table at Thorin. “Don’t toss things aside like that. No wonder Ori had a heart attack when you appeared, with you almost destroying their manuals it probably means more work for them.”

The dwarf snorted, flipping quickly through another book. Under Bilbo’s watchful eyes he closed the book with exaggerated gentleness and set it at the other end of the table when it didn’t hold what he was looking for.

Bilbo went back to his pile of books with a huff. He had to stop and admire the covers of each book, tenderly running a finger down each spine and pinching the top edge of each page when he browsed through it. The ink looked sparkling obsidian under the light against the clean white parchment. A few of the books looked like they’d never been opened before, with crisp parchment and stiff leather bindings. They were beautiful books, no matter the subject each one seemed to be comprehensively explained and full of details. There would be such stunning illustrations on a few pages that Bilbo had to pause and show Thorin his find. Sometimes there would be pages in Khuzdul, but for the most part the books seemed to be written is Westron and Bilbo had no problem reading through them.

“Is there a specific title I should look for?” Bilbo was almost through his pile and he’d found nothing with a broad range of dwarf customs. Most of the books were about only one practice or another.

“I don’t know,” Thorin admitted, tugging on his beard and brows furrowed.

“I’ve got mostly tool making and mining manuals in my pile. Are you having better luck with yours?”

“Maybe,” Thorin grunted. He hardly made a dent in his pile, still on the third from the top. Maybe it was a promising find since Thorin seemed so engrossed in it?

Peeking at the titles of the last two books in his own pile and not seeing anything of use, Bilbo pulled a few of Thorin’s towards his end of the table.

“Oh, look, a genealogy book. Did you know that hobbits love to publish their family trees? I hadn’t known dwarves did too.” Bilbo had barely opened the book before it was snatched from his hands.  

Bilbo blinked, mouth dropping open in astonishment.

Thorin flushed. “That book is…mine.”

Bilbo gritted his teeth together and glared. “That’s no reason--!” The hobbit could hardly believe his anger was getting to him so quickly. If Thorin didn’t look so contrite about his behavior, Bilbo would forget the whole endeavor and storm away.

“I said its mine, now drop it,” Thorin grumbled back, tucking the book under his arm.

“No I won’t! You can’t just go snatching things from someone like that, it’s rude. What is wrong with you? You should have just _asked me_ for it, instead of just taking it like that.”

“It’s mine,” Thorin glared back. “You had no use for it, so why bother looking at it.”

“That’s no excuse for your conduct!” Bilbo was flustered and irritated by Thorin’s actions. It was like he had no concept of common decency.

Thorin tossed the book he had been reading at Bilbo’s feet. “I won’t take your lecturing! I offered to help and if this is all the treatment I’m going to get for it than I’d rather be elsewhere. A hobbit of all people, telling _me_ what is wrong with my behavior.”

“How dare--” Bilbo stood up. He wasn’t going to take Thorin’s attitude trembling like a frightened hare, no he would stand and face the confrontation head on.

“I dare!” Thorin roared, jumping to his feet. “I dare do what I want because it pleases me! I will not have some halfling telling me what do or instructing me how to live my life! If I don’t want you to read this book than I will not have you read this book! If I want to be rude and snatch it from you, it is my decision to do so and I will not hear your reprimands for it.”

Bilbo’s jaw worked, unable to say anything.

“Furthermore, I will not have you berating me like a child and ordering me about. I am a dwarf of Erebor and I will have you dignify me with the respect my station allows me. Your bothersome sermons about proper behaviors are a hypocrisy and I shouldn’t hear them from _you_ of all people. ”

Bilbo felt tears prickling his eyes, and he hastily brushed them away. Thorin’s heaving breaths the only thing heard in the heavy silence of the echoing halls. Bilbo could care less if Ori or the Master Librarian were witness to Thorin’s rant, he felt humiliated enough as it was.

“Bilbo…” Thorin breathed, his anger diminished now that his fury had raged it course. “I didn’t--”

“No. You are right,” Bilbo set the book thrown at his feet gently onto the table, trying to hold back the sniffle that threatened to tear from his throat. A thick weight in the back of his mouth made talking difficult and it took a few moments to get a hold of himself. “I should treat you like _your station_ deserves. I’m s-sorry. I won’t bother you again _Master_ dwarf.”  

“No, please,” Thorin reached for Bilbo and the hobbit flinched back. Thorin gasped like he’d been burned, his face paling under the golden lanterns and eyes wide in horror.

Bilbo retreated, his blurry vision focused on the floor. It felt like his very lungs were trying to shrivel up and keep him from breathing and each step was a hardship unto itself. He didn’t remember much of how he got out of the mountain, just fragmented memories of bumping into a couple of concerned dwarves on his race to get to the open hills of the Shire, only that he most likely made a fool of himself fleeing like he did.

Next thing he remembers is stumbling over a protruding cobblestone on the path to Bag End and skinning his knees. Bilbo sat there and buried the palm of his hands against his eyes, anything to stop the sobs that threatened to wrack his body. He huddled there for what felt like an eternity, trying to compose himself and seize the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“Mister Baggins?” Olo Proudfoot queried, the petite child of the extraordinarily large and hairy footed Odo Proudfoot, a cousin of Bilbo’s. “Did you have a boo-boo?”

“Yes,” Bilbo sniffed, swiping at his knees, trying to dislodge the dirt and rocks that had broken his fall. A bit of blood ran down his leg, nothing to be concerned about, but Bilbo tried to conceal the wound before the tiny hobbit saw. “I fell and hurt myself. Would you be a dear and help me up.”  

“Of course!” The child couldn’t really do much to help but hold onto the older hobbit's hands to keep him steady. “Are you going to papa’s? He’ll have a bandage for you, and he always says that I must head straight home when I get a boo-boo so he can kiss it better.”

Bilbo gave the tyke a watery laugh. “I’d rather deal with the pain than have your papa kiss my bruises, sweetling.”

Olo scrunched up his face, like he couldn’t understand the bizarre behavior of adults. The young hobbit helped Bilbo nonetheless to the Proudfoot’s Tuckborough smial, amassing a lot of admiration for his calm demeanor from Bilbo.

“Minto Burrows is always falling down and skinning his knees too,” Olo answered when Bilbo inquired about his composed manner.

Bilbo didn’t know if his pride could take any more of a beating today, but being compared to a hobbit not yet three didn’t seem to do much worse damage than already done. He laughed, a bit hysterically, but only because no one but Olo was around to see and he doubted the child would tattle on him.

Bilbo took a seat on the bench outside on the front porch as Olo ran inside to grab his father. It was such a pretty day, Bilbo observed, but he was in no mood to enjoy it at the moment. For even the bright blue sky only reminded him of Thorin, yesterday in the garden, smiling up at Bilbo with a happy heart. And then the sound scolding he experience not even less than an hour ago, telling him to mind his _station_.

The difference a day could make.

“What’s this now,” Odo hurried out the door, a satchel in hand. “Mister Baggins! I heard you had an accident.”

“That I did, dear cousin.” Bilbo pulled the cuff of his trouser legs up so Odo could see the rash. It didn’t look bad but it stung something dreadful. “Tripped on the road and skinned my knees.”

Odo did a double take, glancing between Bilbo’s knees and face. Bilbo could only guess that the other hobbit saw the red eyes and tear tracks from his crying, but was kind enough not to mention it. Bilbo had been lucky he hadn’t stumbled upon someone like Lobelia Bracegirdle, who would have already spread the gossip of Bilbo’s shattered dignity halfway around the Shire by now if given the chance.  

“There, there,” Odo muttered, wrapping a quick bandage around each joint after lathering it in creams. “It’s not too bad. I dare say a bit of my herbal soothers and you’ll be feeling right as rain by tomorrow.”

“I’d be much obliged.”  Olo ran inside to grab Bilbo a wash cloth for his face and hands, and after a wipe down Bilbo felt much better to be around company.

After Odo was finished and he’d returned his satchel inside, the hobbit passed over some pipe-weed and pipe so the two could sit on the porch and smoke awhile. Smoking seemed to improve Bilbo’s mood greatly. The hobbits silently appreciating the picturesque view of the Shire from the Tuckborough knoll, with its green hills and plentiful flowers, there was no greater place for a hobbit to be on a day like today. Even as miserable as Bilbo felt, just a moment in the Shire seemed to heal a bit of the hurt.  

“I heard you’ve been working up in the mountain.”

“That I have.” Though now Bilbo didn’t know how he would deal with his job if Thorin tried to stop by and talk. Bilbo doubted the dwarf would, he’d never done so before. Maybe if he asked Master Flar to keep him exceptionally busy he’d have no time to even think of Thorin, much less deal with the dwarf in person.

“A silly thing you’re doing. You don’t need the money for it, so why are you doing it?”

Bilbo fiddled with the brass buttons of his jacket. He felt foolish now that he’d dressed up for his meeting with Thorin. “Just something to do I guess. It get’s awfully boring up at Bag End all by myself now. And it’s fun, sometimes. The dwarves I work with are friendly and I’m learning a lot about dwarven cuisine.”

Odo blew a smoke ring from his pipe. “Hmm, that’s good. At least they’re treating you kindly.”

“Yes, at least they are.” Bilbo puffed at his pipe, staring off into the field where Olo and a few friends were giggling over butterflies.

The plump hobbit grunted, glaring back towards the mountain like it was the reason for every offense. “I don’t know how they do it, living in that mountain. It must be dark and dreary.”

“It’s not,” Bilbo reassured his cousin. “It’s actually quite beautiful. It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but inside…I’ve never seen a place more splendid. There’s huge pillars of colored stone, jewel encrusted furniture, and painted ceilings.”

Odo snorted, smoke coming out his nose like a bull. “Well, it does sound pretty but not very practical. Where are the windows to let the sunlight in or the doors to let the neighbors come visit? I dare say, how do they all live in that mountain? I can barely fit my wife and son in our hill, and there’s a whole kingdom under there?”

Bilbo chuckled lightly, the stone weight in his stomach easing a bit. “There are windows to the outside just around the main gate. I haven’t much been to the living areas so I don’t know how that works. Maybe they all sleep together in one big room, no reason to have doors if that’s the case.”   

“Ugh, can you imagine that. Having to sleep by Rudibert Bolger, he’d keep everybody up with his snoring and there’d be a revolt, hobbits taking up pitchfork against each other all because they didn’t get some sleep. His wife swears she’s going to stab him with her sewing needles if he doesn’t get a hold of it soon.”

Odo’s story was ridiculous, but funny nevertheless. It went a long ways to cheering Bilbo up, and between the pipe-weed and watching young hobbits skipping through the flower fields, the hobbit felt his mood slowly return to him. He still hurt, Thorin shouldn’t have yelled at him like that, but distance had abated the hollow feeling in his chest to something tolerable and familiar.

“I should head home. I’m expecting company later and I need to prepare.”

“It’s not whoever’s been bother you is it?” Odo gave Bilbo a firm look, like Bilbo’s virtue was in need of protecting and he was willing to take up arms about it. It was a kind thought, but the idea of Odo brandishing his pruning shears against Thorin and his swords was just silly. The hobbit might be able to get some good kicks in if Thorin was trying to avoid injuring Odo, but doubtful if Thorin was as good as a guard the others said he was.

“No, one of mother’s old acquaintances.”

“From her travels?” Odo frowned. The other hobbits hadn’t much liked Belladonna traversing around Middle-Earth like she had. He’d been told the whole Shire had breathed a sigh of relief when she’d settled down and married Bungo Baggins. Still, even long after her marriage hobbits tended to frown at the idea of Belladonna’s adventures.

“Yes,” Bilbo said, dusting off his pipe and handing it over to his cousin. “A wizard. He’s come to pay his respects.”

Odo’s jaw dropped and his own pipe tumbled out. “A _wizard_!”

“Bye Odo, we should have lunch together sometime next week. Thank you for the help.” Bilbo limped off the porch and down the trail that led to Bag End, smiling to himself as Odo sputtered from his bench.

Olo and his friends followed Bilbo to the edge of Tuckborough, shouting goodbyes and waving furiously as the older hobbit continued on. After dealing with dwarves and all the conflicts that come with being around them, it had been nice just to be around family. They always knew that sometime Bilbo just needed someone quiet to sit next to and a good smoke to get over whatever was bothering him.   

From a distance Bilbo could see the figure hunched against the door of his house. If it wasn’t for catching sight of the blond hair, Bilbo would have snuck around back to avoid his guest. As it was, young Ori looked beside himself with worry.

“Master Ori?”

“Mister Baggins!” Ori spun around, a relieved smile breaking out at the sight of the hobbit. “Thank Mahal, I thought you were refusing to answer the door.”

“What are you doing here?” Bilbo unlocked his door, holding it open so the dwarf could follow him inside. “Come in, don’t dawdle. I have things to do.”

“Right,” Ori took his boots off and hung his heavy cloak up himself. “Master Brog sent me. I’m sorry that we eavesdropped on your argument, but we couldn’t help but hear.  Master T-Thorin, had no right to yell at you like that. I heard he has a lot of pressure from his family lately, but still...”

“Yes, well.” Bilbo frowned, not wanting to talk about it. “Is there a reason for the visit? You could have just sent a letter if it was to apologize.”

“I do! Oh goodness, what did I do with it?” Ori patted his clothes until he found a large wrapped bundle in his pant pocket and thrust it at the hobbit. “Here.”

Bilbo took the package, pealing the wax seal off and gently unwrapped it from the parchment paper. Inside was a book, the one Thorin had thrown at his feet.

“It’s a tome on dwarf customs. It was originally made for the men of Dale when we trade with them, but most of it can be applied to hobbits as well. It’s a little outdated, but it should help you. My Master hopes this will help you with any future misunderstandings,” Ori said gently, looking at Bilbo with large brown eyes. He looked so desperate to have fulfilled some tremendous task that Bilbo could hardly fault him for bringing up the whole situation with Thorin so soon after it happened.

“Thank you,” Bilbo ran a hand down the cover. “I doubt I’ll need it as much as I would have though.” Since only Thorin was so insistent that he learn about dwarven practice and was likely to take insult at Bilbo’s mistakes. Even the Princes seemed to be less staunch about etiquette than their guard.

“But why,” Ori cried out in distress. “You aren’t quitting are you?”

“Of course not. I just doubt I’ll be dealing with Thorin as much anymore.”

Ori tugged at his braids. “You didn’t see him after you left. I’m sure he’s very sorry for what happened.”

“You don’t need to apologize for him Ori.” Bilbo led the young dwarf into the living room, setting the book on the side table. He would read it of course, so he wouldn’t make a mistake with any of his dwarf friends he had left, just not as promptly as he would have before. Another mistake might not be as painful as it was with Thorin, but it would be a shame to go through this whole thing again with someone else.

“Oh, but, oh, this is--you just don’t understand!”

“I understand quite well. Thorin corrected me on my place in his life. He did so rather harshly, but it got his message across rather well, don’t you think.”  

Ori rubbed a hand down his face and shook his head in distress, nearly stomping his feet in frustration. “Would you forgive him if he expressed regret for his words and actions? If he explained himself?”

“Us hobbits don’t have it in us to hold grudges,” Bilbo explained. While the likelihood of Thorin asking for forgiveness was slim, he would accept the apology if it was sincere. It might take awhile for things to go back to the way they were, but it was just the early stages of their… friendship. He wouldn’t hurt so much if he didn’t have such deep feelings for the dwarf though. It was just a shame that things had gone south so soon after letting Thorin into his heart.

Ori darted forward and pulled Bilbo into his arms, hugging the hobbit tightly against his chest and lifting him off his feet. “Oh thank Mahal! This is good news! I’ll head back and tell everyone there is still hope!”

“Wait, what? Ori--” Bilbo grappled with the dwarf, reaching out to pull Ori back to him. “Did Thorin send you?”

“Of course not.” Ori hopped into his boots without buckling them and tossed his cloak haphazardly over his shoulders.  The dwarf’s foot was halfway out the door when he paused. “Um, after the situation between you and Master Thorin is dealt with, would it be okay if I came back for a discussion about hobbit culture? I think it might be best if we dwarves had a book on you hobbits, so we don’t run into a predicament like this again.”

“I, um, sure. But you didn’t answer--” Bilbo trailed off because Ori was already out the door and heading back to the mountain at a fast sprint. Bilbo stepped out onto the porch, flabbergasted by what had just happened.

“I must say Mister Baggins, I wasn’t expecting to see dwarves leaving your hobbit hole like there was a dragon breathing fire on their heels.”

Bilbo startled. Gandalf the Grey was leaning against his staff, watching Ori disappear down the path with an amused expression.  

“Master Gandalf, you are early.” Bilbo looked towards the sun to gauge the time. He hadn’t even started preparations on supper.  

“A wizard is never early, nor is he late, he arrives precisely when he means to.” Gandalf smiles kindly through his thick grey beard. “Now tell me what has Belladonna Took’s son been doing to send dwarves running for the mountain like that.”

“I honestly don’t quite know,” Bilbo said breathlessly. It was such a trying day, first Thorin, then Ori, and now Gandalf. It seemed like he wasn’t meant to get a break.

“Well, let’s get inside. I could do with a spot of wine. I’ve had enough trouble for the day and a story would amuse me greatly.”

“You and me both,” Bilbo grumbled, letting the wizard inside. Bilbo took the wizard’s hat and staff, waving Gandalf towards the sitting room. Gandalf was much too large for the hobbits regular furniture, and Bilbo had to draw out the old stool his mother would use when tall folk came by. It wasn’t until they both were cozy in their seats enjoying a cup of warm wine and biscuits that Bilbo looked towards his guest to study him.

Gandalf had been kind enough to walk with Bilbo from the inn the other night. Half drunk on ale and high spirits Bilbo had blathered on about nonsense, pastries mostly, and the wizard had barely got a word in edgewise. It wasn’t until they were at Bag End that Gandalf had introduced himself and asked after Belladonna Took’s son. The wizard had traveled to Erebor for business in the kingdom, but when he’d heard of Belladonna’s passing, he’d asked to stop by later in the week to pay his respects.  

Now that he was here, Bilbo could hardly believe there was a wizard in his sitting room. “How have you been?”

Gandalf filled his pipe and took a large puff. “Mm, it’s been a most disagreeable day, dealing with dwarves. One of them sent the whole kingdom into a frenzy yesterday when he disappeared and today the King’s been in a snit, not that that’s unusual. Pray you never have to deal with Kings, Bilbo, they are too much trouble than they are worth.”

“Is that why you are in Erebor, to aid the King in some way?”

“Yes. The old King is very sick,” Gandalf gave Bilbo a bitter frown. “I was asked to crown his son officially at the start of the Durin day celebrations before Thráin’s illness leaves him too impaired.”

“Oh,” Bilbo gasped. He hadn’t known Fili and Kili’s father was sick. He now felt horrible for not knowing and offering his condolences. That the Princes could be so happy and playful while they were suffering was so admirable. It must be hard, to be so young with so much responsibility on their shoulder.

“Enough about dwarves, I’ am here to talk about you.” Gandalf waved off Bilbo’s offer of a snack. “Last I saw, you were a babe in your mother’s arms, hardly able to say a word and too shy to greet me.” Gandalf looked Bilbo over and puffed at his pipe.

“I don’t remember, sorry.” Bilbo sat forward. “My mother would talk about _you_ all the time, in her stories. Drove my father bonkers thinking she was yearning to return to that life before.”

The wizard chuckled, eyes twinkling in joy.

“Well, she was a Took.” Which was something Bilbo heard well enough of around the Shire when his mother was alive. Now less so, and he’d never thought he’d miss it.

“Yes, she was.” Bilbo was taken by memories of a vivacious hobbit, his mother’s smiles and cheerful laughing. How she would spin him around in circles as a child, roll down hills into leaf piles in the fall and help him build tiny snow smials in the winter. Others around the Shire would grumble about how her behavior was very un-hobbit like, but not even they could say she wasn’t a happy person to be around.

“I am so sorry to hear of her passing, my dear boy.” Gandalf glanced toward the portrait of Belladonna and Bungo over the mantel. “She was an admirable hobbit and an exceptional companion on my travels.  She will be dearly missed.”

“Yes, she is.” Bilbo sat back, feeling so emotionally drained that even the pipe-weed no longer helped. He looked towards the ceiling, hoping the answer to all his problems might be hiding up there. Why his mother’s death still hurt so dearly even after all these months, why Thorin’s anger had cut so deep, why he constantly felt like he was walking a thin line towards an unfamiliar future. It was dizzying and upsetting to his simple hobbit senses, never knowing if tomorrow would be a peaceful day of regular living on the Shire or some bizarre encounter with a dwarf that would throw his whole day into a tailspin.

Maybe his problems with the dwarves would be solved if he quit? He’d feel bad about leaving Master Flar so early in his apprenticeship, but there had to be young dwarves around eager to fill his position. And just because he didn’t work in the mountain didn’t mean he couldn’t still be friends with the others.

“How are you holding up,” Gandalf asked, interrupting Bilbo’s musing.

“Me? I’m fine.” Bilbo made the mistake of looking into the wizard’s eyes, he felt like the old man could see his dishonesty.

“Mmm…” Gandalf puffed at his pipe.

“I’m working in the kitchen of Erebor!” Bilbo scrambled for an explanation. “It’s fun. I’m making new friends, learning… things.”

“Ah,” Gandalf picked up the book Ori had dropped off, fingernails tapping against the wax symbol on the paper it was wrapped in. “I see that. Learn anything interesting?”

“I haven’t read that book actually. Master Ori had just dropped it off before he shot out of here.”

“I saw his departure.” Gandalf chuckled to himself, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Bilbo muttered, flopping back into his chair in a huff. “Like you, I’ve had my dealings with dwarves enough for today. They always muck things up, I’ll be having a fine and dandy day, and one will appear and turn everything around on me. I am at my wits end with how to deal with them.”

Bilbo’s resentment seemed to amuse Gandalf more than anything. They lapsed into silence for a while, Bilbo trying to calm his bitter displeasure and who knew what the wizard was thinking of. Besides his wine and pipe, the wizard seemed quite content to stare off into space.

“I hear they don’t much like cats.”

“What?” Bilbo shook himself, blinking at the wizard who’d spoken suddenly.

“Dwarves, I hear having a cat will deter them from visiting. Something about the way the creatures stare frightens them. I would also suggest a giant spider to keep them away, dwarves loath spiders, but I much doubt you’d have use for one unless you are into weaving.”

“I should think not!”

“Maybe while I am in Dale tomorrow I shall find you a pet. This home is much too gloomy for just a hobbit, some life would do you good.” Gandalf continued on like Bilbo hadn’t spoken, nodding to himself as if taking note.

“Master Gandalf!” Bilbo fumbled with his empty cup. “I don’t think a cat will be the answer to my dwarf problem. Surely you have more important things to deal with than filling my home with animals.”

“Nothing’s more important than dealing with a dear friend’s forlorn son. I owe your mother to see that you are happy by the time I depart Erebor and there is much to do to ensure that and not near enough time that is allowed.” Gandalf stood up, knocking his head against the chandelier. “Dear me!”

Bilbo jumped to his feet and fluttered about the aging wizard. “No, please. I’d rather you not!”

“You have a much more of your mother in you, you know? I can see it in your eyes.” Gandalf bent so their faces were even with each other and Bilbo froze. It was like looking into the abyss, time stretched and Bilbo wondered at the magic the old man had in him. “You don’t just share the same coloring, there’s an adventurer in there and a will to do great things Bilbo Baggins.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Bilbo said, unsure what the wizard was talking about.

“No,” Gandalf straightened, setting a hand on his shoulder and smiling down at the hobbit. “Not yet you don’t.”             

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is king by de facto, not de jure yet. While he isn’t officially the king yet because his father hasn’t passed on the crown, he does run Erebor and others refer to him as king also since his father isn’t mentally able to do it himself. But others like Bard and Thranduil won’t call or acknowledge his title until he’s formally crowned. Hope that makes sense, it’s hard to look up how there can be 2 kings, with one not really king yet. Basically Thorin’s prince regent and the dwarves calls him king.


	6. Lost Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo tries to find peace away from the Shire and meet’s royalty.

****

 

Originally Bilbo had planned to head to the market today, to spend some time around his people and forget about dwarves, but now he was afraid to even leave his hobbit hole.

There were two large ravens on the hobbit’s fence when he woke up the next day. Huge, horrible looking things that glowered at Bilbo with their beady black eyes through the window and flapped their wings in irritation when Hamfast Gamgee tried to shoo them off with a broom. If anything, Mister Gamgee’s pestering only made them more ornery, and they relieved themselves all down his newly painted fence in retaliation, resolutely sticking to their spot in front of Bilbo’s door.

Bilbo spent some time just wandering his house reading, checking every few minutes to see if the birds were still there. Mister Gamgee had long given up hope of getting the birds to leave off and had gone back to his gardening in discontent. The ravens never moved, except for their heads, which were always looking in the direction of whichever room Bilbo was in when he checked out the window.

Finally after a while Bilbo huffed in exasperation, he wouldn’t be cooped up inside his home because of a couple of birds. He changed into some recreational clothes, put on his straw hat, and snuck out the back to go fishing. He planned set up a line in the brook off the Celduin River, lay back with his book on dwarf customs in a grassy field, and enjoy a nice day to himself, maybe even getting a nap in if he was lucky.    

He hadn’t slept well, which seemed to be a running theme in his week since starting his job in Erebor. Between his anxiety about work and Thorin’s behavior, it seemed he was never going to get a good night’s sleep. His head felt awful and his face dry, and he knew he most likely looked a fright to anybody he passed, but didn’t care. He hadn’t felt this awful since the funeral. If anybody asked he’d blame it on nightmares, they would understand.

Otho Baggins, of all hobbits, was already on the hill with his fishing pole out, whistling a tune loudly and waving a twig in the air like he was conducting a symphony. Bilbo approached from behind him, half hidden by some bushes, so when Bilbo stepped on a twig, the hobbit spooked.

“Goodness! Bilbo, don’t scare me like that!” Otho put a hand to his chest.

“Sorry cousin,” Bilbo plopped beside the harried looking hobbit. “Anything biting today?”

“The trout have been nibbling all day.”

Bilbo looked pointedly at Otho’s empty fishing creel. His cousin caught the look and laughed.

“I’ve been throwing them back,” Otho whispered through a grin, leaning towards Bilbo and wiggling his eyebrows. “I’ve been ordered to head back once I catch enough for supper, _sadly_ all the ones I’ve caught today were too small.”

“Really Otho!”

“What?” Otho smirked, looking years younger than he’d been the last few weeks. “Lobelia’s been on me about the wedding. I need some time to myself for once.”

“Surely it can’t be that bad?” Bilbo set his hook with a little bit of cheese and tossed it out, the bobber making a tiny splash beside Otho’s.

“You don’t understand,” The other hobbit wiped at his forehead with a handkerchief. “She’s gone mad! Always nagging me to work more as a way to make more money, then buy her things, she has me running around town doing things for her, and I never get a moment of peace. You’d think she was a dwarf Princess with the demands she’s making for this wedding. Last night she was asking if we should have silver forks for the guests to eat the cake.”

“That’s barmy!” Bilbo wasn’t as shocked as he played. He knew Lobelia Bracegirdle, so he wasn’t surprised by her eccentric demands. “The wedding will only be for a day, why is all this work going into it?”

“Ugh,” Otho fell back against the grass. “Pray you never get married Bilbo. It’s more trouble than it’s worth. I’d rather us run off and elope if Lobelia would concede to it. I could deal with the scandal it would cause as long as I wasn’t working myself to the bone picking out tablecloths and ribbon.”

“Thanks for the warning. I now rather like the sound of being a bachelor forever.” It wasn’t like Bilbo had a lot of prospects, no matter what his heart yearned for.  

“Mmm…,” Otho pulled his hat out of the way so he could look at Bilbo. “I hear you’ve had a strange bunch running in and out of Bag End the last few days. You haven’t got a secret lover do you?”

Bilbo squeaked, blushing furiously. “Otho!”

“What?” Otho laughed loudly when he caught sight of Bilbo’s incredulous expression. “It’s not an odd question. You are a Took.”

“What does being a Took have to do with secret lovers? Are you suggesting everyone with Took blood is hiding lovers in their closet?” It probably wouldn’t be too far off the mark with Fortinbras Took II, who tries to dally around with any unwed maiden who looks in his direction despite his engagement to Lalia Clayhanger. There’s a rumor he even seduced a woman from Dale, but no one can confirm if that tale true or not and Fortinbras refuses to answer. But the hobbit won’t even enter Dale without a disguise anymore so that must say something.

“No! Then half the Shire would have paramours behind their spouse’s back. I’m just saying, the Tooks have always been an adventurous lot, and it wouldn’t be odd for your type to take a dwarf lover.

Bilbo choked, he’d been in the middle of nibbling on a bit of cheese.

“Well, Reginard Took married that dwarf. Horrid fellow, you remember? Wouldn’t smile at anybody but Reg and drank all the wine grandsire bought before anybody else could even have a glass,” Otho said quickly. “It was funny to see all those flowers braided into his beard though, and I hear they are happy. So it might not be bad for you to be courted by one of those fellows, I guess.”

“Otho stop, please.” Bilbo didn’t know whether to laugh or run screaming from the conversation. It was true that Reginard had married a dwarf, but so had Amaranth Brandybuck and May Gamgee. “I’ve been working in the kitchens of Erebor, and I’ve made some new friends. That is all.”

“Well, I was just saying…” Otho pulled at his rod, jiggling it a bit and tossing a rock into the water when it looked like he might have a bite. “I wouldn’t have anything against it. I do suggest holding out for someone of high standing though, you’d be looked down on by others like Lobelia if your new husband is a poor dwarf.”

Bilbo hid his face against his knees and moaned loudly in frustration.

“Don’t look so down, cousin,” Otho said gently, patting Bilbo on the back. “You will find a great love one day. I did, and look how happy I am.”

“You are miserable,” Bilbo said aghast, giving Otho an incredulous look. “You are hiding from Lobelia right now!”

“Well,” Otho huffed. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love her! She just has that marriage madness right now. She’ll go back to normal afterwards.”

Bilbo groaned and slumped over in defeat. “Eru take me, I can’t deal with you anymore.”

Otho laughed enthusiastically, not taking offence. “So you like your job then, that’s good. Don’t know why you’re working in the kitchens though, I always figured you more as an advisor sort, with all your books and papers. You’re basically related to every clan in the Shire, so you have a lot of experience working with others and settling matters, working as a cook seems…lowly of you. ”

“It’s not lowly,” Bilbo muttered into the grass. “I think the others just listen because they feel obligated because of my parents. Being a cook is different, I like it and it makes me happy. The dwarves appreciate me for my cooking too.”

Otho huffed, tossing another rock. “Don’t you like your books though?”

“I do,” Bilbo sighed. His own library could never compare to the library in Erebor, the memory of it only tainted a smidge by Thorin’s explosive anger. He doubted anything could dilute the images of glittering halls and filled bookcases, the smell of dust and parchment, and the wonder of a new book never opened before sitting in his hands. No. Not even Thorin could ruin that memory.

Speaking of books, Bilbo pulled out the book Ori had left him.

“What’s that?” Otho leaned over so he could catch a glance of the title.

“Just a book,” Bilbo teased, holding the item in question up so his cousin could see. “You wouldn’t like it, horribly boring stuff. No Princess or dragon at all.”

“Oi!” Otho blushed. It was a running joke that Otho was awfully taken with the idea of being a hero and rescuing maidens from dragons. When they were children Bilbo was often forced to be the dragon because Otho refused to be anything but the hero. The one time Bilbo’s cousin conceded his usual role was when Lobelia demanded to be the hero and Otho the Princess. It sort of set a foundation for the relationship between the two of them after that.

Bilbo sighed deeply, remembering those happier times when he was a child.

“Why do you look so down, cousin?”

“Just remembering,” Bilbo answered, fixing a crease on one of the pages.

“Ah,” Otho said, nodding as if he understood. Many hobbits weren’t as understanding of Bilbo’s loss and often seemed to pity him more than feel any sympathy for him, but not Otho. Otho’s father had passed three winters ago and he’d been a rock to Bilbo in this most trying of times. He seemed to know just when Bilbo needed to be left alone in quiet or when he needed a distraction to take his mind off matters.

They sat quietly together watching the bobbers quiver in the water, and Bilbo shared some of his bread and honey he’d packed for lunch with his cousin, splitting the bottle of wine and drinking it right from the bottle. The two hobbits enjoyed watching as the sunlight dance across the surface of the river, appreciating the quiet atmosphere between them as something rarely experience anymore with Bilbo’s new job and Otho’s up-and-coming wedding causing so much headache and exhaustion. Bilbo even didn’t mind Otho tossing rocks and scaring the fish away, it only meant he got to spend more time outside, taking luxury in the peaceful surroundings and undemanding company.

Bilbo decidedly tried hard not to think about Thorin at all or the hurt in his heart from the dwarf’s cruel words. He read mostly to himself, but when something interesting was discovered, he’d show Otho and ask his opinion.  

“Sounds odd. I mean, wearing shoes is odd enough, but demanding a duel if someone puts on your shoes by accident?”

Bilbo laughed at Otho’s pinched look. The image of Thorin’s suspicious glances towards Bilbo when he asked the dwarf to take off his shoes didn’t sound so unreasonable at the moment now that he knew this tidbit of information. Maybe Thorin had thought Bilbo wanted to fight him or something?

“They are odd--”

“There you are Mister Baggins!”

Both hobbits startled, clutching at each other in fright and nearly taking a tumble down the hill in the process. Otho accidentally elbowed Bilbo in the chin and Bilbo knocked Otho’s hat off his head and into the water. They were finally able to untangle themselves when a pink skirt filled their vision.

“Lobelia, my love! Don’t scare us like that,” Otho panted, setting his wet hat on his head.

“I’ll deal with _you_ later,” Lobelia growled, then turned her attentions to Bilbo. “You now...”

“Yes Miss Bracegirdle?” Bilbo smiled sweetly up at her. Any pleasant response of Bilbo’s seemed to have the unfortunate effect of sending Lobelia into a temper, so Bilbo often went out of his way to be especially nice to the hobbit lass as a result.

Lobelia put her hands on her hips and glowered down at him. “Never mind you distracting my future husband with your books and stories when he should be fishing for our supper, but now you have the whole Shire up in a fuss while you dally away peacefully without a care. I ought to knock you into the river and save everyone the trouble. Those dwarves are harassing everyone about, asking questions and whatnot, bothering even the little ones.”

That brought Bilbo up short and he got to his feet. Lobelia was a little less intimidating when she wasn’t standing over him anyways. “What?”

“Those blasted dwarves,” Lobelia hissed, waving her arms back towards the Shire. “They’re running back and forth from the Shire to the mountain, asking silly questions about hobbits and picking flowers. Gave mother a fright while we were looking at lace, then he had the nerve to buy the best trim before I could even see it!”

“I have no idea what you are talking about?” Bilbo looked between Otho and Lobelia, confused. He’d been here fishing the whole time, so he didn’t understand why Lobelia would credit him with the mischief of dwarves buying lace trimmings.

“Now don’t you lie to me Bilbo Baggins,” Lobelia pointed a finger at him and almost poked him in the nose. “I know this is all your doing. I won’t have any part of it. Neither will Otho!”

“My love,” Otho pleaded.

“Hush you! Go back to your fishing.” Otho’s mouth snapped shut and he resolutely went back to his fishing pole with a focus not seen since the angler tournament that earned him three gold hooks last summer.

“Lobelia,” Bilbo almost yelled. “Stop. Just explain to me why a dwarf in the Shire is _my_ fault?”

The hobbit glared back, like she didn’t really believe that Bilbo had no part to play in all this. “Well, I would think it was your fault, having dwarves over all the time. Not really proper I say, letting that one work in your garden. You already responded to the wedding invitation that you would be coming alone, so I won’t be putting up with you bringing a guest. You hear me!”

“I jus--you know what, I’d rather not know now.” Bilbo huffed, turning his back on his cousin’s fiancée and plopping back onto the grassy hill. If Lobelia was going to accuse him of every little wrong that happened to her, then let it be. Really, they lived right outside Erebor, of course there was dwarves walking about town and shopping in the markets.  

Lobelia made a hissing noise like an overheated teapot before stomping her hairy feet and marching up the hill back towards the Shire. Bilbo and Otho sighed with relief simultaneously, but only when they figured her far enough away not to hear.

“See what I mean, marriage madness.”

Bilbo shook his head in disbelief. “If it rains on your wedding day I fear she may do me in.”

“Don’t jinx yourself cousin,” Otho laughed. “It might happen and then where will you be.”

After Lobelia’s confrontation, the two hobbits took to their fishing a bit more seriously. Bilbo discovered he’d actually had a fish hooked for a while now and just hadn’t noticed, and once that fish was put away he threw the line back out for another. Otho borrowed some cheese and caught four large trout in a row and was soon bundling all his things together to head home.

“I need to head back before she turns her ire on me,” Otho explained. “She’ll think we’re conspiring to ruin the wedding if I stay out with you too much longer.”

“She really does think poorly of me, doesn’t she,” Bilbo stated. He’d always been uncertain when it began, for even as children Lobelia had disliked him. Being family and around the same age, Otho had been one of Bilbo’s companions growing up, and it seemed he’d been a sort of competition to Lobelia for his cousin’s attention. Otho usually didn’t play into taking either hobbit’s side, but lately Bilbo had noticed Otho hardly called upon him for anything. Maybe the upcoming marriage to Lobelia had changed that status quo?

Otho gave Bilbo a sad smile. “She doesn’t hate you, I know that.”

“Still.” Bilbo sighed, feeling gloomy.

“I think she’s always been a bit jealous of you,” Otho said, looking back towards the Shire. “And maybe upset you never took notice of her.”

Bilbo gaped up at Otho. The very idea of Lobelia Bracegirdle being upset that Bilbo, of all hobbits, never found her agreeable enough to court was just preposterous! Surely he would have noticed if the other hobbit had even shown an inkling of an inclination towards him. All he could remember was her horrid temper and plenty of scowls thrown his way when she caught sight of him.

“Don’t look so surprised, cousin,” Otho chided. “It took me a long time to win her over, even after she knew all hope was lost. But she’s happy now, with me, and I plan to keep her that way.”

“And I wish you lots of luck in that endeavor.” Bilbo blinked up at his cousin and then shook himself. “I wish you both lots of happiness, that’s all I could ask for.”

“Thank you.” Otho smiled back, no ill will between them even though his revelation had been startling. “Good luck yourself, I think change is on the wind for you.”  

Bilbo scowled in return and Otho laughed loudly.

After goodbyes were expressed and a promise _not_ to bring a guest to the wedding Bilbo was left to himself as Otho headed back home. The hobbit watched the water with contemplation. Taking memories and turning them around, trying to find the things he missed in all his interactions with Lobelia. It was a little disheartening to find out that she’d been holding a torch for him as long as she supposedly had, but it didn’t explain her attitude towards him.

He was just pulling out his line out when a yell came out from the mountain. Bilbo turned and saw that there was a procession coming down the road, six ponies with dwarves riding upon their backs, heading back from Dale. The sentry guard had spotted the riders and given call to open the east gate.

Bilbo finished unhooking the fish he’d caught, happy that he’d have a filling meal tonight, when he glanced up towards the roadway bridge by chance and one of the dwarves called to him.

“Hobbit!”

Bilbo looked up and saw that they’d stopped just as they were crossing the bridge, five male dwarves and one female by her dress. He could be wrong; it was awfully hard to tell with dwarves, unless they were wearing skirts.

“Yes Madame?”

“Solve a problem for us, please.” The woman dwarf beckoned him towards them. Bilbo caught sight of Dwalin in the back of the procession and had a gut feeling he was walking towards something dire. An older dwarf with his beard split in two was riding next to the female dwarf, a thick red coat instead of a guard uniform like the others. He was the least intimidating one of the group and he smiled kindly down at Bilbo from his mount.

“Tell us, what would it take to earn a hobbit’s forgiveness?” The female dwarf asked, the sun shining through the sparse clouds and setting what Bilbo had originally thought brown hair to a golden red. She was beautiful, even by hobbit standards, with long curling hair twisted up into intricate knots and braids, tiny pearls and diamonds placed all about her person, and even her beard was neatly trim and fashionable. Bilbo could only figure he was looking at someone of royalty, for she wore a thick silver circlet about her head and seemed to command the others with her presence.  

“Um, M-Milady, a simple apology would most likely do.” Bilbo didn’t know if he should bow or not, he hadn’t gotten to the chapter yet about dealing with likely royalty.

“See Balin, just as I said. But he is too stubborn.” The lady gave her older companion a satisfied look. Dwalin rode up between them and said something in Khuzdul that had the whole party turning to look at Bilbo with incredulous expressions. Even the guards were giving Bilbo varying looks of disbelief, eyeing him like an unsavory character.

“Excuse me hobbit,” the older dwarf, Balin, said. “Would you happen to know a Bilbo Boggins?”

“It’s Baggins. And that would be me.” Bilbo wanted to sink into the earth. He had a feeling this all came back to Thorin. He just knew it. He’d curse the dwarf next time he saw him. Thorin had most likely run off to tell everyone of what happened in the library, getting others involved who had no say in it. Maybe Lobelia had been right, and it really was his fault for the dwarves to be harassing hobbits about town today.

“Oh! Good then.” Balin and the lady sat back into their saddles, sharing a glance over Dwalin’s shoulders. “Tell us Mister Baggins, what would make you most content right now.”

Bilbo didn’t say the first thing to come to mind, which was that the dwarves would leave him alone for once, maybe even a full day. Nor the next thought, because it was for Thorin to be scolded in public like to the child he had been acting like. Bilbo just had a feeling those thoughts wouldn’t be taken as well in this company. “M-me? I, well, I have need for nothing.”

Dwalin was looking at Bilbo like one might a bug in their soup.

“Indulge us,” Balin asked again, shooing the large dwarf out of the way.

The truth was that the only thing that would make him truly content was something no one could ever give him. He had no want for material things, and the other things he would want could not be forced to be given.

“Really, I can think of nothing.” Bilbo felt his face heat. The dwarves looked disappointed, the guards muttering amongst themselves and the other three speaking quickly in Khuzdul.

“E-excuse me,” Bilbo interrupted. “Do these questions have something to do with Th- _Master_ Thorin?”

The lady smiled gently down at him, and Bilbo could see the resemblance to Fili and Kili in the pleased grin. If there was ever a doubt that she wasn’t in some way related to the Princes, it vanished then. “So you are not as thick as Thorin would have us believe. I dare say, I think my br--”

Dwalin started coughing so loudly he startled his pony into rearing up and nearly slid right off the saddle. There was a moment where everyone had to get their mounts under control and Dwalin was quite pink cheeked afterwards.

The female dwarf rolled her eyes. “As I was saying,” she muttered. “My _brave guard_ has told me much about you, but none of his words have done you the justice as you deserve, Mister Baggins. If you haven’t figured out he wished to apologize, and since he is not here now I guess he hasn’t been successful so far in his endeavors. So tell us what he can do to earn your forgiveness so we won’t have to hear his bellyaching any longer.”

Bilbo felt mortified. Here was a lady, who could possibly be the dwarves Queen, asking _Bilbo_ what the royal guard Thorin could do to make amends because he was making the whole mountain miserable. If Bilbo ever got his hands of that dratted dwarf, he’d-- he’d pull on his beard!   

“He can…!!” Bilbo puffed up in anger, his face flushing. “Thorin can apologize in person, and he has to mean it! Then the next thing he can do is to promise to stop involving others in our private matters! Really, that dwarf is such --such a flibbertigibbet!”

While most of the other dwarves looked appalled, Balin and the Lady looked rather proud of Bilbo. Balin even gave Bilbo a wink after the hobbit deflated with a loud sigh, and the female dwarf laughed loudly.

“I can see why he’s so taken with you Mister Baggins. Even your anger is amusing and pleasing to look upon. I hope you do not give Thorin his forgiveness easily, hobbit. He is stubborn and must learn, and he’s never been easy to teach. It would please _me_ if you make him earn it,” She said, looking Bilbo up and down.

“I-I don’t understand Milady,” Bilbo looked at his dirty feet. His heart jumped at the comment that Thorin liked him, and now that he knew the dwarf was seeking an apology so vehemently as to bother others, Bilbo’s Tookish nature thrilled in excitement. He’d never had someone go out of their way before to appease him like this. It was still bothersome, to involve others, but it spoke of a desperation he’d never imagined turned his way.

“Don’t play coy lad,” Dwalin growled.

“Dwalin!” Balin scolded. “Ignore him Mister Baggins. He is upset he’s been run out of the Shire for pestering the hobbits and labeled an unsavory character.” Balin turned towards Dwalin. “You should hold Thorin responsible for sending you on that pursuit to harass the hobbits, and not blame Mister Baggins.”  

Dwalin grumbled, rubbing his arm like he was soothing an old wound. Bilbo gazed between them wide eyed, dreading the mess he’d be returning to when he got home.

“I see…”

“You will understand soon enough. We must leave you now that we have our answer,” the female dwarf said with a smirk. “If I were you I’d expect company soon, so I’d hurry home.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, just nudged her pony forward and the other’s followed, Dwalin eyeing Bilbo suspiciously even when they were almost to the gate.

Bilbo felt his knees wobble and he stumbled, fishing gear scattering about him. What had Thorin done!

Once Bilbo had his things bundled up again and was finally ready to head home, he glanced down the road to the east gate one more time and saw someone heading back on foot. Bilbo paused, wondering if it might be Thorin and if it would be best to wait for him? That is until he saw the bald head and knew it was Dwalin. His nervousness subsided and Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m making sure you don’t disappear again,” the Dwarf muttered once he caught up to Bilbo.

“I never exactly disappeared and I’m not going to hide from Thorin if that’s your concern.” Bilbo huffed, trying not to make his irritation obvious and he stomped down the trail.

“The way I see it, you were hiding today.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I was not. I was just fishing and if Thorin couldn’t find me that wasn’t my fault.”

The tattooed dwarf grumbled something probably unkind under his breath, never once offering to help Bilbo with his full load. If Bilbo had to choose who had worse manners between Thorin and Dwalin, Dwalin would win that pick by a landslide, and Bilbo hadn’t even been around the dwarf that much!

Bilbo did his level best to pretend he didn’t have a huge, surly dwarf following behind him like an unhappy keeper. But soon enough Bilbo was less concerned about himself and more worried about the dwarf. By the time they made it to the edge of the Shire, hobbits out in their fields and gardens stopped to stare, some pointing and making disgruntled faces. Bilbo would have felt self-conscious but the hobbits ire wasn’t directed to him as much as it was to his escort. Dwalin seemed to pick up the mood and the one time Bilbo glanced back at the dwarf his shoulders were up about his ears and he looked stricken by the attention.

“Did you really run around harassing hobbits?” Bilbo let his curiosity consume him even though he was trying to do his level best to ignore the dwarf. What on earth could Dwalin have done to feel so bad about and the hobbits angry?

“I wasn’t botherin’ nobody.” One farmer raised his pitchfork in a threatening gesture, and even though Dwalin was carrying two larges axes strapped to his back the hobbit looked near enough ready to charge them. Bilbo decided it would be best to speed up his walking.

“Eru save me from the stubbornness of dwarves,” Bilbo muttered under his breath.

“ _Mahal save me_ from the overly sensitive temper of hobbits,” Dwalin muttered back snidely. Bilbo nearly dropped his fishing pole in shock, outraged that the dwarf would talk back like that.

They were just turning the corner to Bag End when Bilbo caught site of the most peculiar spectacle. Not only were the two ravens still on his fence, but another three had joined them. Also, leaning against his door were three large wrapped packages, two baskets full of food, a couple of books, and what had to be half the Shire’s population of flowers decorating his porch and windows. Behind him, Dwalin gave a loud whistle.  

“What on Middle-Earth…” Bilbo felt one of his knees weaken and he stumbled, thankfully Dwalin caught him before he dropped.

“I see I wasn’t the only one sent out.”

“Thorin order you to do this?” Bilbo whirled to stare up at Dwalin, shaking his arm loose from the dwarf’s grip. Either Thorin had better friends than even Bilbo could imagine or the dwarf was using his power as a royal guard dishonestly.  

“Of course,” Dwalin said, looking confused. “Who else would have need to send raven messages and flowers? Unless you are so easily offended that you have more than one person seeking forgiveness today.”

“Well, no, but…” Bilbo trailed off as he looked back at the gift garnishing his hobbit hole.

Dwalin stormed forward to the fence, shooing the ravens over so he could open the gate. They hopped sullenly aside, beaks clacking together and eyeing the dried salted pork in the baskets with longing. The dwarf seemed to take no notice of the creatures, so hoping they weren’t dangerous Bilbo tried to make a quick entrance without bothering them.

“Mister Bilbo Baggins!” One bird cried out, this one the most decrepit of the lot, aged, half-blind, and balding on its head. “I am Roäc, son of Carc. I have a message to give you and I have been waiting for most the day to pass it on. Let me speak it and leave this horrid place, I beg of you.”

Bilbo bit his lip in surprise, his voice catching in his throat. The only thing he was able to do was nod.

“Good.” The bird clacked its beak at Bilbo. “Thorin Oakenshield wishes to say sorry to the hobbit Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo blinked, coughing a bit until he could speak clearly. “Um…is that all?”

“There was more, very poetic for a dwarf, but I’ve long forgotten it by now.” The bird glared with its one good eye. “If you had not made me wait you would have heard the whole message.”

“Bloody birds…” Dwalin grumbled from against the door where he was inspecting one of the baskets of food.

Roäc ruffled his feathers in displeasure. “The others have similar messages that run in the same vein, but we were ordered to stay until you heard them. Will you release us from our duty and call it done, hobbit. We are hungry.”

With five pairs of beady black eyes and their sharp beaks all pointed towards Bilbo he felt rather compelled to give his acquiescence, “Of course, I’m terribly sorry you had to wait!”

Four of the birds took flight right away. Roäc had a bit of trouble getting off the fence and into the air and had to make a few tries until the wind got under his wings and lifted him into the sky. Bilbo watched them with wide eyes as they headed back to the mountain, wondering how on earth Thorin was able to talk some ravens into sending inane messages for him when he just as easily could have written a letter.

“Thorin isn’t going to be happy,” Dwalin said, munching on a sausage link.

“Hey! Isn’t that mine,” Bilbo cried out, swiping the meat out of the dwarf’s hand.

Dwalin shrugged, looking none too concerned about eating Bilbo’s gifts. “You’re lucky the birds didn’t get to it. You need help getting this all inside?”

Bilbo looked at all the packages and flowers, looked at Dwalin, and had to submit to the fact that he would need assistance. “Please.”

While Bilbo put his fishing tackle up and left the fishes he caught in the kitchen, Dwalin made the trips outside to pull in the packages. The baskets themselves were so full Bilbo could hardly lift them because of their content and the hobbit was regulated to storing the books in his library while Dwalin brought the other things inside. Once everything was in but the flowers, Bilbo put a hand on his hips and stared at his porch.

Dwalin stood beside him, a somewhat arrogant look about his person. Suddenly, Bilbo felt a telling shiver go up his spine as to why the hobbits disliked the dwarf so much.

“I can’t bring these inside,” Bilbo said, looking between the dwarf and the flowers. A few of them he might be able to put in some empty vases, but a lot of them would be left to wither and die out in the sun. It was such a waste.

Dwalin shrugged.

Bilbo scratched his head. “I don’t understand why there is so much?”

“I heard flowers were a good way to apologize.”

“Were you only asking husbands? I have no use for this many flowers, and though it is impressive, I feel quite bad that you’ve upset the others by taking so much.”

Dwalin shifted guiltily on his feet, as to whether it was from whom he asked or because he got so much, Bilbo did not know and decided to leave it be. Gathering a few of the freshest ones he could find that still didn’t have their roots attached, Bilbo handed them off to Dwalin so he could look for the vases and set them about the house. They were pretty, but Bilbo would rather have seen the flowers in the soil than in a vase.

Next Bilbo eyed the packages, wondering if it would be worth it to even open them, but with Dwalin standing expectantly over him, Bilbo sighed loudly and opening the first one. Inside were seven large rolls of fabric, along with a couple of bundles of ribbon and trim. All very expensive looking and very pretty, if Bilbo had been a lass he would have been extremely pleased with the gift. As it was, he had no idea what to do with the white, blues, and honey yellow fabrics except maybe make curtains with them? Lobelia might take the ribbons and trim as an early wedding gift if he was diplomatic about it.

The second package was somewhat better received. A wooden box filled with straw and inside was three wheels of cheese and a small barrel of ale from the Red Dragon inn. That at least he could enjoy. Bilbo took that package and the baskets of food to the pantry.

With his mood somewhere between annoyed and exasperated, Bilbo filleted his fish with some potatoes, onions, and peas. Setting out a plate for one only as Dwalin took sentry by the window. He hadn’t invited Dwalin over, and though the dwarf frowned at him, he didn’t make a fuss about not being fed. Bilbo felt vindictive, like he was getting back at Thorin through Dwalin.

Bilbo had just tucked his napkin into his shirt when there was a knocking at the door. Dwalin stood straight, smirking at Bilbo with the satisfied expression of one who knew what was coming. There could be no doubt that it was Thorin, and Bilbo felt his hand tremble and his body sweat like a flash of heat had scorched him. The hobbit wasn’t even sure his feet would hold him, afraid that he would tumble over and left to crawl to the door instead.

“That’s the door,” Dwalin drawled.

“Um, r-right.”

“Did you forget you were expecting company?”  

Bilbo used the napkin to wipe at his face. His stomach felt like it was about to revolt and he was glad he hadn’t eaten yet for fear it would come back up.

“No. Oh goodness, I don’t think I can get my feet under me.”

Dwalin glanced down at the feet in question and raised his eyebrows, catching sight of Bilbo’s bandages.

“Did you hurt yourself earlier?”

“Y-yesterday,” Bilbo said without concern, he was too caught up in the thought of the dwarf most likely waiting impatiently on the other side of his door.

Dwalin frowned, pushing Bilbo back into his seat when he tried to rise. “Sit, I’ll get it.”

Feeling numb and powerless to stop the dwarf, Bilbo watched from down the hall Dwalin opened the door and let Thorin inside.

 

****


	7. Kind Beasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin apologizes and Bilbo gets a housemate.

***

 

Thorin swept into the room and to his knees before Bilbo quicker than he could blink, taking the hobbits legs and running a thumb gently down the bandages.

“What happened,” Thorin whispered, concern crinkling his brow as he examined Bilbo’s knees. “ _When_ did this happen.”

“He said yesterday,” Dwalin answered, coming up behind the other dwarf and leaning over Thorin’s shoulder to look.

Bilbo wasn’t sure but he thought he saw Thorin flinch. “Was this because…” Whatever he thought seemed to sadden him and Thorin leaned forward and took Bilbo’s hands in his, leaning his forehead against the hobbit’s knuckles.

It was like Eru llúvatar was blessing Bilbo Baggins with the gift of breath, his lungs relieved to be filled, his blood pulsing through his veins, and his vision finally refocusing on the present.  “Thorin…” Bilbo gasped.

The dwarf looked up and finally met Bilbo’s eyes, the light blue a murky grey in the shadows of Bilbo’s kitchen, filled with emotions that no words could ever express.

“A pile of gold or cut jewels could never repay the debt I owe you or the forgiveness I seek. I took your friendship and I threw it back at you, belittled you when you didn’t deserve it, and was too harsh when I should have been kind. If you never want to see me again I would understand, but I deeply wish that our parting will not leave you thinking all dwarves are unkind as to stay away from the mountain forever,” Thorin stated and bowed his head.

Out of the corner of Bilbo’s eyes he saw Dwalin shift uncomfortable, but the hobbit’s true focus was on Thorin.

“I have hurt you emotionally,” Thorin looked at the hobbit’s knees, “and physically. If my gifts do not satisfy you then you may ask me of anything in all of Erebor and I will give it to you.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo whispered, gently tugging on one of the dwarfs braids to get the kneeling guard to look at him. “All I ask is for an apology. That’s it.”

Thorin’s breathing stuttered. “Then I wish to make amends to the one I hurt, a Mister Bilbo Baggins, and make an apology for my horrible actions towards him.”

Bilbo smiled gently, feeling a bit like his heart was racing right out of his chest. “Then I accept your apology, Master Thorin.”

“Please, just Thorin.” And Thorin took one of Bilbo’s hands and pressed a quick kiss to his palm. “Here before witness I promise to never abuse the benevolence of your company and I vow to cut off my beard should I ever wrong you again.”

Dwalin must have stumbled into the table and Bilbo’s teacup rolled off and broke against the floor, delicate pieces bursting around them. Dwalin swore, but Thorin and Bilbo hardly took notice of it.   

“That sounds a tad excessive,” Bilbo said kindly, fingers running down Thorin’s chin and to the beard in question, which he gave a tug. “I don’t think you can promise we won’t fight again.”

“No,” Thorin said ruefully. “But I can promise to hold my temper better. The absence of your company for the day was painful enough and should I ever forget, I shall look back on that day’s misery as a hard reminder for the consequences of my actions.”

Bilbo bit his lips to stop the smile threatening to overtake him. Thorin’s speech was as good as a declaration and Bilbo had never been so secure in the affections of someone who hadn’t declared themselves outright. His heart beat so fast and his hands shook, he felt like the only thing holding him together was Thorin’s hands in his.

“I-I should apologize too,” Bilbo brought Thorin’s hands up to press his lips against the dwarf’s scarred knuckles. “I shouldn’t be so critical on you. I can’t expect you act like a hobbit when you are a dwarf and you were right to tell me to stop treating you like a child. I am sorry.”

“Forgiveness is yours, of course.” Thorin jumped to his feet, pulling a chair over to he could sit with his knees pressed against Bilbo’s thighs. “Now tell me of your injuries, how did they happen?”

“I just fell.” Bilbo blinked away the moisture in his eyes, reminding himself not to become emotional over Thorin’s easy acceptance. He was the one mostly hurt by their fight, but his heart still tightened viciously at the thought of Thorin’s accusations in the library. “Tripped over a cobblestone on my way back home. My cousin Odo took care of it and gave me some herbal soothers for the pain.”

“I can call the royal physician to look it over if you want,” Thorin said anxiously, fingers tenderly prodding at the bruises peaking out of the bandages.

Bilbo shifted, trying not to make it obvious Thorin’s touch to his skin sent such delicious shivers up his spine. “You shouldn’t abuse your position like that. Those physicians have more important people to look after than a hobbit with skinned knees.”

Thorin grunted unhappily, but he accepted Bilbo’s decision. Thorin gave Bilbo a hesitant smile, looking at him from under his dark lashes.

Dwalin rattled the cookie jar loudly when his hand got stuck, breaking the intense atmosphere with his unwelcome distraction. Thorin sat back, looking somewhat surprised to see Dwalin still there. “You may leave now, my friend.”

“You got everything sorted then?”

Thorin looked at Bilbo and grinned. “I believe so. Thank you for watching him for me.”

Bilbo’s happy smiling turned into a frown, “I told him I wasn’t going to hide from you.”

Dwalin snorted, jerking his hand out of the jar with a pop. “He’s not too happy with the flowers or the cloth, just so you know.”

“No! They’re lovely,” Bilbo said quickly. “I just think it was a tad excessive.”

Thorin looked around the hobbit hole as if expecting the items to be displayed. “Were the gifts wrong? We asked the hobbits around the Shire what would be best.”

“No, they were very nice and thoughtful. I just think next time you shouldn’t ask hobbit husbands what to get their wives when they are seeking forgiveness. I really have no use for ribbons and lace.”

Both dwarves looked contrite, Thorin running a hand down his beard and Dwalin scratching his neck in what Bilbo guessed was embarrassment. “Ah, I had wondered at that,” Thorin said.

“But the rest is wonderful,” Bilbo continued, “the cheese and ale from the Red Dragon inn and the baskets of food. I’ve never seen such a variety of foods. I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.”

“I was in Dale today,” Thorin said lightly, smoothing out his coat. “Someone suggested hobbits favor foods above most things and I thought the baskets would be something you’d appreciate.”

“Oh I do,” Bilbo said. “I saw honey-cakes from the Anduin valley and even lembas in the basket. I’ve never tried lembas before, but my mother once described it to me and said it was very filling.”

Thorin frowned and Bilbo suddenly remembered the dwarf’s dislike of elves.

Dwalin had given up on retrieving the cookies and set the jar back on the mantel. “I’m heading back to the lonely mountain. Will you be here long, Thorin?”

Thorin turned to look at Bilbo with a piercing gaze and the hobbit felt his cheeks turn pink. “I do not know, but I should be a while. Do not wait for me and tell the others not to worry, I will return when I am able.”

Dwalin snorted, grumbling something in Khuzdul that had Thorin growling back in the same dwarvish tongue. Bilbo tensed, afraid that they were about to start fighting until Dwalin laughed.

“Good luck on that,” Dwalin drawled, giving Bilbo a taunting leer. “This one doesn’t look like to type to bend over the next surface just because you asked nicely.”

“Dwalin!” Thorin growled, marching over to bodily toss the other dwarf out the door. They scuffled for a moment, playfully, until Thorin was able to knock Dwalin’s feet out from under him and the dwarf stumbled out into the yard. Bilbo jumped to his feet and rushed to the window to see if there was any damage to his garden or the dwarf.

“Ignore him, he is a simpleton and doesn’t know what he is saying. I would never suggest you impugn your honor like that.” Thorin came up behind Bilbo to watch as Dwalin limped down the trail.

“I figured he was just teasing.” Bilbo glanced shyly up at the dwarf.

“Come,” Thorin said, pulling Bilbo away from the window and to the living room. “Sit. Your injuries need rest and I would like to speak with you for a while.”

Bilbo let himself be pushed into his armchair, Thorin pulling the ottoman over so the hobbit could put his feet up. It was sort of surprising and somewhat refreshing to have Thorin see to his needs for once, and he didn’t protest as the dwarf poured another glass of wine and set his fish dinner on the side table for Bilbo to nibble on while the dwarf cleaned up the broken tea cup in the kitchen.

Bilbo needed that time to silently unbundle the emotions currently twisting in his stomach. He was happy, even relieved to see Thorin, but he was also cautious and hesitant to place his heart in the dwarf’s hands. If anything, their argument proved that they didn’t know each other well enough yet to be so free with their feelings in regards to the other.

Thorin took the seat across from him, the one that used to be reserved for Bilbo’s mother. The pink and white patterned roses distinguish Thorin all the more for his dark coloring, the dwarf’s heavy blue clothing and tanned skin a contrast to Bilbo’s brightly decorated furnishings. He looked so awkward, but Thorin didn’t seem to even notice or care.

Sitting back in his seat, Thorin looked Bilbo over with a meticulous eye. “You look terrible.”

Bilbo put down his fork and glared appalled at Thorin.

“Which is probably my fault and I should apologize for it,” Thorin said hurriedly.

“Yes you should,” Bilbo told him bluntly.

“I’m sorry,” Thorin said.

“I know.” Bilbo sighed, closing his eyes for a long moment. He was so tired, even though it had mostly been a rather relaxing day. He hadn’t been as ready to face Thorin as he thought, he guessed. Acquiescing to Thorin’s apology with hardly a thought, he’d folded like Old Noakes caught at cheating dice. It wasn’t that he wanted to hold a grudge against Thorin, he’d just thought he was made of sterner stuff not to give in so easily.

“I’m sorry,” Thorin repeated, as if sensing Bilbo’s thoughts.

Bilbo rubbed at his temples, trying to chase his headache away. “I said I know.”

There was a sound of moving cloth, but Bilbo kept his eyes close. “I’m sorry,” Thorin said, closer and gentler than before.

“I know,” Bilbo whispered. He could feel the heat of Thorin’s body near his legs, the hot scent of rock and smoke that normally permeated the air around Thorin’s person. Thick fingers circled the hobbit’s wrists and pulled his hands into a warm vise grip.   

“I’m sorry.” The words were spoken roughly against Bilbo’s palms, and with his eyes closed the sensation of lips against the hobbit’s skin made him shiver. Thorin’s beard scratched unnervingly against Bilbo’s tender skin, making the hobbit twitch and flexed his hands against Thorin’s jaw.

“I-I forgive you.” Bilbo opened his eyes to see the top of Thorin’s head. “You’re going to ruin your clothes kneeling all the time like this.”

Thorin laughed, a deep chortle that rattled his whole chest as he leaned into the hobbit. Bilbo pulled one of his hands out of Thorin’s grip and ran it through the dwarf’s hair and to the place where neck met shoulder, rubbing soothing circles there. The dwarf practically purred, leaning into Bilbo’s hand.

“You smell like fish,” Thorin muttered against Bilbo’s wrist.

“Well,” Bilbo spoke sarcastically, “that’s not surprising.”

Thorin chuckled again, pulling himself back to lean on his heel. “I have your forgiveness.”

Bilbo knew Thorin wasn’t asking for confirmation, but he nodded anyways.

“Good. I  am much relieved.”

“You really didn’t have to get me all that stuff, you know.” Bilbo reluctantly kept his hands in his lap as Thorin pulled back and up into his seat. He felt bereft in a freezing river without Thorin there to anchor him, skin colder and hand emptier now that he wasn’t holding onto the dwarf.

“Keep it all, maybe someday they will be of use to you.”

“I’m giving the lace away though,” Bilbo barely resisted wagging his finger at Thorin. “I have no use for it, now or later.”

“I think you’d look most fetching in lace trimmings, hobbit.” Thorin smirked.

“Hush,” Bilbo hid a smile behind his hand. “I should use that fabric you bought me and make you a pink cloak with ribbon and bells hanging from the seams. _You’d_ look regal walking about Erebor guarding the King with it on don’t you agree?”

Thorin pretended to scowl. “Go ahead, you can make me clothes and I will wear them proudly. I look good in everything I wear.”

That statement startled a laugh out of Bilbo, even though he thought it might be depressingly true. Everything Thorin wore seemed like it was fashioned just for him. His broad shoulder made his cloaks hang dashingly to his feet, the fur trims and embroidery on his cuffs, armor perfectly molded to his muscles, even the colors picked perfectly to make the wearer stand out even more. Thorin pulled it off effortlessly. Even so, Bilbo had a feeling that you could put Thorin in a burlap sack and he’d still look regal.

“You are staring,” Bilbo said, after he went back to eating his dinner. “Are you hungry?”

“Only to look upon you,” Thorin answered with no shame.

“Thorin…” Bilbo flushed, his head feeling reasonably dizzy from all the teasing he’d endured from the dwarf.

“It is true,” Thorin said gently. “Your hair glimmers like gold in the firelight and your eyes like blue-star sapphires. Your lips are like pink beryl begging for a kiss and your skin as soft as polished moonstone. If I was not the jealous sort I’d dress you in gold and diamonds and parade you around Erebor to the envy of the other dwarves.”

“Stop.” Bilbo hid his face behind his hands. “You do not need to woo me with pretty words like I’m a maiden, Thorin.”  

“There is no shame in me telling you my desires for you.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo peaked at the dwarf from between his fingers. “You hardly know me!”

“Not yet.” Thorin smirked roguishly. If Bilbo was not so taken with the dwarf he’d be put off by Thorin’s confidence. As it was, it only made him seem more attractive.  

“What of my own affections?” Bilbo asked, once he’d calmed down enough to remove his hands from his face and drain his glass of wine. He would need the encouragement for the coming conversation. The tension in the room had reached a boiling point, and if they did not address it, Bilbo feared it would spill over and spoil everything.

Thorin sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Please, tell me of your desires.”

Bilbo swallowed thickly, somehow gaining the courage to squeak out, “My heart is cautious, I cannot love you if I do not know you, us hobbits are not made that way. I will not deny a desire for your company and I do find you,” Bilbo blushed, “appealing.  But I am not the sort to dally needlessly and if your own heart is not in this I beg of you to release me from your torment.”

The dwarf leaned forward and caressed Bilbo’s ankle, running gentle fingers through the hair covering his feet. Bilbo barely resisted jerking it back, afraid what Thorin would say.

“I do not wish to torment you,” Thorin looked up and blue-grey eyes bore into Bilbo’s. “I only wish to… court you.”

Bilbo gasped, stunned by Thorin’s admission. He hadn‘t, well, he had never had a notion that Thorin would jump right into courting him so soon into the beginning of their relationship. Though it was a nice thought, and something Bilbo didn’t see himself rejecting, but it did cause him to worry that things were happening too fast between them. Bilbo’s breathing stuttered and he was afraid he might faint, it was all almost too much and he feared he was dreaming.  

Thorin continued. “Dwarves do not dally either and once we make a decision we stick with it. We only take one spouse in our lifetime and even after death there will be no other to soothe our broken hearts. A widowed dwarf may not fade away like an elf, but that does not mean their love was any less truer.”

“I would never suggest it was,” Bilbo said, trying to catch up with what Thorin was saying. He was still stunned by Thorin’s declaration.

“Good. I have heard things said by elves that disparage my people. I must confess I do not know much of hobbits and their ways of marriage.” Thorin twisted the bead holding his braid, looking Bilbo over as if to read the answers he desired on the hobbit’s skin.

“Um, well,” Bilbo fiddled with his shirt cuffs, mind swirling with things to say and questions of his own to ask. He decided to say the first thing that came to mind after what Thorin had said, “There’s hardly ever a divorce in hobbit marriages, the last one was maybe a hundred years ago, and it’s usually because of extenuating circumstances. We are—we are maybe not as dedicated as dwarves, I mean, widows can remarry and while some die of heart sickness we don’t fade like elves either. You see, they must think of the children and what’s best for them…” Bilbo trailed off, mentally kicking himself for what he had said.

Thorin’s brows were furrowed and he seemed to be thinking on what Bilbo divulged. “Divorce? I have never heard of it.”

Bilbo stuttered nervously, “W-well, I wouldn’t say it’s something we would have to worry about so forget I s-said anything.”

“Ah.” Thorin nodded, scratching his jaw as he thought about something.

“I, er, are you sure you want to court me? I’m just a hobbit you know.”

Thorin blink, “Of course I know you are a hobbit.”

Hoping he hadn’t insulted the dwarf, Bilbo held his hands up in defense. “Yes, well, I was just checking. You are a dwarf though, so I don’t see why you would want to court me of all people. I have no riches and I’m not particularly brave in battle or anything. I like my books, my armchair, and my garden.” Bilbo felt like he couldn’t look Thorin in the eyes and turned away.  “I’m a lowly pastry chef for the dwarves of Erebor. I’m no one special.”

“I like you,” Thorin said simply and Bilbo jerked up to look at him. “You are not scared of me and you are beautiful to look upon. Two qualities I find most attractive.”

“O-oh.” Bilbo’s hands flopped onto his lab in shock. He didn’t know whether to feel flattered or offended. Either way, his heart jumped joyfully at Thorin’s admission.

Humming to himself, Thorin glanced towards the unlit fireplace and it seemed the dwarf was unconscious of his fingers trailing the instep of Bilbo’s foot still. Bilbo wiggled his toes, worried about their dirtied state.

“Um, I’m afraid I don’t know much about what being courted by a dwarf entails,” Bilbo said slowly. He felt the time had passed for him to bring up any real objections he had to Thorin’s proposal without insult, not that he would reject the dwarf. He wasn’t sure, maybe dwarves had long engagements, and that would give them the time needed to get to know each other better and make the final decision if they wanted to stay together evermore. Hobbit engagements weren’t very long at all, as most hobbit couples had known each other for years, usually once courting began, so did plans for a marriage celebration, and that only took a month at most.

Thorin jerked out of his thoughts, pulling his hands back. “The book, it should have something on it.” He waved Bilbo off.

“Oh, okay.” Bilbo felt disappointed that Thorin wasn’t going to just tell him. Unless Thorin was rethinking his desires for some reason? His sudden aloof attitude towards their impending courting was dismaying.

Thorin rubbed at his brows, “Do hobbit me--”

A knock at the door interrupted whatever the dwarf was going to say. Bilbo hopped to his feet to answer it before Thorin could, ignoring the dwarf’s dark look directed at the door.

“Gandalf!” Bilbo cried out, happy to see his friend, if disappointed at his timing.

“Gandalf?” Thorin hollered, standing in surprised as the wizard let himself in. “What are _you_ doing here?”

The wizard paused for only a moment, smiled and handed his hat and staff to Bilbo. “I am visiting my friend Bilbo. I must ask, what is Thorin Oakenshield doing here?”

Thorin looked like he was trying to grind his teeth into stubs. “I asked you first, and I can be where I like.”

“Of course, of course,” Gandalf said genially to the dwarf before turning back to the hobbit. “You have a lovely collection of flowers in your yard, I don’t remember seeing them before.”

“They are, um, gifts.”

Gandalf gave him an understanding nod. “Ah, an admirer. We shall be seeing some excitement around Bag End in the coming days I see.”

Thorin growled like an angry warg. Gandalf’s smile nearly split his face when he glanced towards the room where the dwarf was waiting. It wasn’t until the wizard made an odd hand gesture that Thorin seemed to calm down some.

“Would you like something to drink Gandalf?” Bilbo looked between the two, wondering at the tension between them. Well, more like the tension directed at Gandalf from Thorin. Gandalf didn’t even seem to pay any mind the dwarf’s glares.

“Oh, some wine would be fine. Thank you, Bilbo.”

Bilbo ran off to the pantry to get his guest and himself some more wine. He could hear raised voices in the living room and he leaned his head against the cabinet for a moment to mourn the fact that he was now less likely to get the answers he wanted out of Thorin now that there was a guest present. Thorin didn’t seem like the type that would want to talk about courting in front of others.

When Bilbo returned, Thorin had a somewhat impressive glower on his face. Gandalf looked amused, accepting his drink from the hobbit and waving Bilbo’s offer of biscuits off. Bilbo set the treats by Thorin instead, hoping some food might help with Thorin’s bad mood.

“Oh,” Bilbo stopped himself right before he sat back down. “I should light a fire before it gets too dark.”

“Let me,” Thorin said, putting a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder to ease him back into the chair.

“Well, it seems you’ve domesticated yourself a dwarf, Bilbo.” Thorin froze from where he was trying to get a fire started in the hearth. Bilbo had been about to thank the dwarf and his jaw dropped when Gandalf spoke.

“Gandalf!” Bilbo squeaked scandalized. “Be nice to Thorin, he is my guest.”

The wizard chuckled. “Sorry, I meant no insult. I’ am just tired from a long day and my mouth got ahead of me. _Things_ have been difficult for me in Erebor since I got here.”

“Erebor doesn’t need your help, wizard,” Thorin grumbled, sitting back down once he got the fire lit. “You can leave whenever you want.”

“Well, Erebor’s King does have need of me.” Gandalf raised an eyebrow at the dwarf.

Thorin grunted, crossing his arms in a huff.

Bilbo glanced wildly between the two, exasperated by the secret exchange between them and the fact they were ignoring him. Bilbo could only guess that Thorin had run-ins with Gandalf while he was guarding the King and maybe something had happened that upset the dwarf? Otherwise he had no clue as to why Thorin was so mad. He’d ask Thorin, but the dwarf looked ready to chew off his arm if he had to talk about personal feelings right now and Bilbo would rather not have an irate wizard in his hobbit hole as well as an angry dwarf.

“What business do you have with the hobbit, wizard?”

Gandalf pulled out his pipe, lighting it somehow with his thumb, and took a long pull from it. “Hmm, nice weather we’re having don’t you think? I dare say winter’s about to be upon us and it won’t last long. Has the Gamgee’s finished their harvesting yet, Bilbo?”

“Um, yes.” Bilbo looked up from where he was staring at his feet.

“That’s good, they have such delightful pumpkins if I remember right. Is there to be a harvest festival in the Shire this year or will it be incorporated into the Durin’s Day festival? I remember the Took’s always threw the best parties. I had blisters on my feet after all the dancing that one year.”

“I don’t--?”

“Wizard, you shall not ignore me!” Thorin was once again standing and shaking his fist angrily, but his size was diminutive next to Gandalf, even sitting the wizard was a head taller and the effect wasn’t as spectacular as he probably assumed.

“Sit, Master Thorin. You are in good company.” Gandalf tipped his head in the dwarf’s direction. Thorin huffed, gave him a suspicious glance, and took his seat again. Crossing his arms again the dwarf looked like a child pouting at being ignored.

“I knew Bilbo’s mother, and when I heard of her passing I thought I’d stop by to pay my respects and Bilbo has been kind enough to let me call on him when I have time. I would be remiss, as I’m sure you understand, to decline a friendship between us.”

Grumbling something under his breath, Thorin nodded reluctantly.

“I heard recently that Bilbo was having a dwarf problem.” Gandalf wiggled his eyebrows at the hobbit. “Was Master Thorin kind enough to settle it for you?”

“I—um, well,” Bilbo stuttered, blushing furiously and not looking towards Thorin _at all_.

“I did find an assistant for you in Dale, he should be here in a matter of minutes. If the problem is settled I can inform him his help is no longer needed, but he has had a long journey.” Gandalf puffed at his pipe and Bilbo would swear the wizard was laughing at him.

“Are there dwarves harassing you?” Thorin asked, looking very concerned that Bilbo’s safety might be in jeopardy, not knowing that he was the dwarf in question Bilbo had complained about to Gandalf.

“I…well, not exactly,” Bilbo choked out, sweating under the pressure of Thorin’s concern and Gandalf’s questioning.

As if by magic there was a tiny knocking at the door. Bilbo might not have heard it if he wasn’t praying for a distraction just then.

“Oh goodness, that must be him now.” Bilbo was on his feet and swiftly opened the door before either of his guests could blink. Looking outside, Bilbo didn’t see anybody at first.

“There’s no…” Bilbo started to say and then he looked down at saw the most unusual of creatures.

“Ah! Master Pumpernickel, you made it!” Gandalf appeared over Bilbo’s head, welcoming the creature into Bilbo’s hobbit hole with nary a pause.

The creature, cat-like, but much larger and much furrier, waddled into Bilbo’s home with an air much like Thorin possessed that first time he came over. Strutting forward with a snide disdain for the things around him and glancing at Bilbo with an indifferent gaze, the creature sat and offered them both a snort.

“Yes,” Gandalf bowed low to set a hand on the hobbit’s shoulder as he talked to the cat creature. “This is Bilbo Baggins, the hobbit who would like to hire you.” The wizard turned Bilbo around to look him in the face. “This is Master Pumpernickel, son of Fluffydinë the Great, knight of the alleys of Dale and expert mouser. Now Bilbo, Master Pumpernickel has agreed to work for you at a salary of three meals a day and a warm bed by the hearth. He will not only keep dwarves away if you ask him, but also birds, mice, insects, and the occasional orc if they wander into town.”

“Orcs?” Bilbo squeaked.

Thorin must have heard him cry out and the dwarf rushed into the entrance hall, “Orcs! Where?”

“There are no orcs here, Master Thorin. We are discussing the contract between Bilbo and Master Pumpernickel.”

“What is _that_!” Thorin hollered, ignoring the wizard and pointing a knife he pulled from his pockets at Master Pumpernickel.

The cat grumbled low in his throat and if possible, its fur puffed up even more. It must not like having knives directed at him, or he just really didn’t like dwarves. The creature’s eyes flashed a glowing yellow and Thorin looked almost ready to take a step back, but held himself gallantly instead. Bilbo would have felt admiration for the dwarf’s bravery if he wasn’t sure the cat was harmless unless provoked, though Thorin looked ready to provoke.

“Uh, can we scratch that whole thing about protection from dwarves?” Bilbo edged back against Gandalf, not wanting to get between Thorin and the beast if a fight broke out.

The wizard laughed, “Of course, whatever you desire.”

“Good,” Bilbo gulped. “Is there a way to stop them before they get started?” Master Pumpernickel was kneading the carpet with his sharp claws, tail twitching back and forth like he was barely restraining himself from leaping at Thorin.

“Yes, your right. No need to start a battle this late at night.” Gandalf coughed. “Master Thorin, if you would be so kind as to put away your weapon, Master Pumpernickel means no harm to either you or Bilbo. Master Pumpernickel, your mother would be ashamed at you for dishonoring her this way, trying to start a fight so soon into your new employment, with your boss’s guest no less. The dwarves mean Bilbo no harm so protecting the hobbit from them is no longer part of the contract.”

“You let such foul beasts into my intended’s home.” Thorin glared up at the wizard, sheathing his knife with great reluctance. The beast in question stuck his nose into the air and went to investigate the rest of the house, looking not a bit self-conscious that he’d been scolded by Gandalf.

Gandalf’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. “Oh! I had not known, you really shouldn’t hide such good news from me, Bilbo.”

Bilbo jumped in surprise. “I hadn’t, um, well we’re actually courting, and it just sort of happened?” The hobbit wrung his hands, trying to resist pushing the whole group of them outside and locking the door behind them. This was all very overly distressing, he hadn’t even formally accepted Thorin’s declaration and the dwarf was already telling guests they were engaged.

Thorin wasn’t done talking about the cat, though he frowned at Bilbo. “Tell the creature we have no use for its help.”

“I wouldn’t be so hasty, Master Thorin. By hobbit standards a statement of pursuit is followed by much chaperoning between the two courting, and without Bilbo’s relatives here it would be unseemly for you to even be in the house alone with him. I think Master Pumpernickel will be tolerable guard to Bilbo’s honor if you decide to keep coming around the Shire in the foreseeable future.”  

Grumbling, Thorin crossed his arms and looked at Bilbo to confirm this. Bilbo could do nothing but give a brisk nod. What Gandalf said was true, but usually a chaperone was used only for those too young and easily overcome with such emotions that they might fall into a marriage bed before the actual marriage.

“Fine. The beast can stay,” Thorin stated. Gandalf smiled, giving Bilbo a wink when Thorin’s back was turned.

“So kind of you, Master Thorin.” Gandalf bowed to the dwarf’s retreating back.

Bilbo went to see about Master Pumpernickel’s lodgings, using one of the new baskets Thorin had bought and one of Bilbo’s great aunt’s quilts as bedding for the cat. Luckily, there was some left over fish for the creature to eat and he seemed to warm up fleetingly to the hobbit if food was somehow involved, but quickly vanished with a flick of his tail into the back yard once he was done.

“Odd animal.” Bilbo said to himself, shaking his head. He honestly wouldn’t mind the company or someone watching the house while he was out, he just wasn’t sure what he thought about having a cat chaperon Thorin and him during their courting.

The rest of the night conversation flowed much more easily between the three in the living room once Bilbo returned. There were strange undertones to Gandalf and Thorin’s talk about each other’s work in Erebor, so Bilbo kept most conversation to the Shire and his new job to avoid more conflict. But even through the conversations, in the back of Bilbo’s mind he was always thinking about Thorin’s announcement to court him. Wondering what he was to do and how he should react to the dwarf from now on. He would have picked up the book right then and read what he needed to if it wouldn’t have been so rude to ignore his guests.

“I must be gone my friends,” Gandalf stood and popped his back. “I have an early morning. A representative from Mirkwood will be coming to converse with the King about the coming celebrations.”

Thorin did not look happy about that.

“Sorry for keeping you so late,” Bilbo said, helping his guest with his things.

“No worries. I think I needed the time to relax, and it is always good to see you my friend.” Gandalf looked at Thorin pointedly. “Would you like to escort me back to the mountain, Master Thorin?”

“Not particularly.” Thorin didn’t make any motion to leave his chair.

“Thorin…” Bilbo scolded gently, giving Thorin a look. The dwarf sighed, getting to his feet in a pout.

Gandalf laughed. “Who knew a hobbit would hold Thorin Oakenshield, of all dwarves, in line. I dare say Bilbo, you should join me tomorrow in the negotiations, things might run easier if you are there.”

Bilbo waved the wizard off, “Don’t be silly, my scolding only works on Thorin.” Bilbo shot the dwarf a quick smile, trying to get across he was only teasing. Thorin grimaced but didn’t look insulted.

Thorin then took Bilbo’s wrist and kissed the back of the hobbit’s hand. “I am only leaving reluctantly. You’ll read your book, and we will discuss things at a later date.”

“Okay.” Bilbo bit his lip, ignoring Gandalf’s delighted smiling as he watched them. “I’m going to be working for the next four days so you’ll have to search me out if you want to see me.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I just might.”

“Come, Master Thorin. We shouldn’t dally with goodbyes. Bilbo will be here in the morning if the King’s duties are finished early enough.”

That must mean Thorin was guarding the King tomorrow, Bilbo thought. “You shouldn’t rush things with the elves for mine or Thorin’s sake,” Bilbo told Gandalf.   

“Worry not, Bilbo.” Gandalf’s eyes twinkled in the light of the moon. “Things will progress how they are meant to.”

Thorin’s hands slipped from his and before Bilbo could even think of shouting his goodbyes, the dwarf and wizard were too far to hear.  Bilbo settled for waving at their backs, the moon almost lining up with the mountain in front of them and silhouetting the two on their journey back to Erebor.

Master Pumpernickel took up his position at the door, watching the two leave with distrustful eyes.

“He’ll, uh,” Bilbo felt odd about talking to a cat, “be back, and I’d rather you not chase Thorin or any other dwarves off. Please.”

Master Pumpernickel gave a hesitant meow, as if asking Bilbo if he was sure.

“Yes, I think we’ll be seeing more of him around the Shire.” Bilbo closed the door to his hobbit hole gently, making sure not to catch the cat’s tail.

Bilbo walked into his living room and picked up his book on dwarves, flipping quickly to the chapter on courting.  

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Master Pumpernickel as a pallas cat, just with a more brownish coat. They look very mountain and warrior-ish, and if it came down to a fight they could maybe take on a small orc. Also, thanks for everyone commenting and leaving kudos, you are all wonderful!! =D


	8. Dancing Warriors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo talks with Ori and Dori, then he gets to watch Thorin work of his sword fighting

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Bilbo sat up straight, suddenly aware that he was still in his living room and the late morning sun was peeking through the window. He must have fallen asleep reading the book.

Master Pumpernickel was batting at his feet and Bilbo guessed that was what had woken him. Waving the creature off, Bilbo got slowly to his feet. The cat made a grumbling noise, looking up at the hobbit, unimpressed.

“Sorry,” Bilbo yawned. “I didn’t think I would fall asleep.”

The cat sniffed and waddled towards the kitchen. Bilbo followed, at a more sedate pace.

The book had been fascinating. Dwarf courting and marriage customs were a lot different than hobbits, and Bilbo had been amazed by some of the traditions the dwarves carried out as suitors. Where a hobbit courting was simple and rather swift, a dwarf’s could actually be complicated and somewhat long. There had been a paragraph about one dwarf couple whose engagement had lasted almost twenty-five years, mostly because of a war that was happening at the time, but still. There were some ancient customs that expected a dwarf to outright steal their intendeds from their family home, or another that meant a marriage couldn’t be validated unless one of the suitors had killed at least twelve goblins. All seemed very strange and barbaric to Bilbo’s hobbit mind.

Thankfully there was an updated version, so there would be ‘spouse nabbing’ or orc slaying from Bilbo’s suitor. Since Thorin had already declared his intent to court Bilbo he could expect three gifts from Thorin next, something of steel, gold, and mithril. The book also said that Thorin would have to design a braid for his intended’s beard, but Bilbo wasn’t sure how that would work out since he didn’t even have one. Maybe they would improvise and Thorin could create a braid for the hair on his head or feet instead?

In return, if Bilbo accepted Thorin’s claim, he would be expected to give Thorin a weapon at the end of it all as a sign that trust was returned and Bilbo welcomed Thorin’s protection and declaration. If Bilbo still had doubts, he could delay the engagement by sending Thorin on a quest to prove his worth. This could usually put off a marriage by a few years, depending on the skills of the warrior in question. To outright deny a courting, Bilbo could challenge the dwarf to a fight or cut the braid off that the dwarf had designed as a less dramatic dispute to the suitor.

All together, it wasn’t as bad as Bilbo might have expected, but still a bit complicated with all the gifts and weapon giving compared to hobbit courting. Hobbits went about things a lot more sensibly. There was dancing and flowers of course, the usual to any couple in love with each other and trying to make their fancy. Writing love letters was also a common tactic of an arduous suitor, as a way to show their affection and writing skills. To simply put, there was no real expected gift dedications given by a suitor, one simply had to make the desire for marriage known and have it accepted for things to be official.

Master Pumpernickel head-butted the back of Bilbo’s knees, breaking him out of his trance.

“Sorry, sorry. Just a bit distracted,” Bilbo said, opening the cabinets and set out a bowl for the creature. Making breakfast was a simple enough affair even with Bilbo’s head in the clouds.

After they both were fed and ready for the day ahead, Bilbo took his pipe and headed up to his tree bench as the cat rustled around in the garden after insects. He thought today would be a good day to sit and watch the warriors train.

Bilbo sat for a long while watching the synchronized movement of the dwarves, how they parried and thrust their swords at invisible enemies. Sometimes they’d break off into groups and battle each other, war cries and yelling often followed after that.

“Master Baggins?”

Bilbo coughed, almost choking on the smoke from his pipe-weed. Waving away the lingering smoke he glanced down the hill towards his house and spotted Dori standing there leaning against the fence with Ori behind him.

“Up here!” Bilbo hollered back, waving until the two dwarves saw him. They trudged through the yard and up the hill, Dori fussing at Ori when the younger dwarf almost tripped on a rock.

“Hello! Good day we’re having isn’t it.” Bilbo smiled up at them, patting the seat beside him. “I was just watching the warriors practice. Would you like to sit?”

“Thank you,” Dori made sure Ori was seated before taking the space between Bilbo and the younger dwarf. “I wouldn’t think a hobbit would enjoy watching dwarves fight?”

“Oh, well,” Bilbo said. “I don’t like fighting, like most hobbits, but it sort of looks like dancing from a distance.”

Ori squeaked, smothering a laugh into his yarn covered fists. Dori frowned, “Dancing?”

“Yes.” Bilbo pointed with the end of his pipe towards the field. “See how they move together. It reminds me of a dance we hobbits perform at parties. Two couples will circle around each other with their hands crossed in the air before them, and then they will kick their feet up and circle around the other way.”

Dori rubbed at his chin, squinted towards the warriors. “You might be right…”

Ori dropped a tome in his lap and quickly started squiggling sentences in it. “What kind of dancing does it remind you of Master Baggins?”

“A bit of the circle hop, maybe.” Bilbo blew a smoke ring, fond memories of dancing through his head. As a tween he’d been something of a sought after dance partner, able to dance long into the night without breaks. “You dwarves are not as light on your feet as hobbits, but some of the footwork could also be seen as the farandole dance.”

Ori nodded, glancing up with pleading brown eyes for Bilbo to continue. Dori was watching the dwarves and snorting happily when one was knocked down by his opponent.

“It’s hard to explain to outsiders. Maybe you should come to the harvest festival and see it for yourself. Hobbits enjoy any sort of dancing and merry making, and we won’t begrudge a student wanting to learn.”

The younger dwarf bit his lip and looked at Dori. “Would that be okay, brother? Can I spend a day with the hobbits learning their dances?”

Dori’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought long and hard on Ori’s request. Bilbo didn’t see what the problem was, Ori looked old enough to make decisions about where he spent his time, but he wouldn’t intrude on a family discussion by speaking aloud.

“You will stay away from Dwalin if he is around.”

Ori turned bright red.

Bilbo cocked his head to the side. “I don’t understand what Master Dwalin has to do with Ori learning to dance?”

Dori grumbled, turning his back to his brother so he could adequately explain the problem to the hobbit without interruption. “Dwalin has offered once already to _teach_ _things_ to my young brother.”

“No! It was all a big misunderstanding,” Ori cried out, pulling on his older brother’s cloak. “Nori took something Master Dwalin did out of context!”

“You don’t know what that savage dwarf suggested and our brother was right to defend your honor like he did. Mahal, you were barely of age!”

“Master Baggins,” Ori tried to say over Dori’s shoulder. “Master Dwalin did no such thing, he was helping me up from a fall and accidently grabbed somewhere without looking! No honor was besmirched and he apologized for the accident, only Nori came upon us and thought something befoul was about to happen.”

“So _you_ say,” Dori grumbled. Bilbo raised an eyebrow, wondering if perhaps Dori did believe his young brother and was only keeping up the front because of Ori’s adamant denials. Even Bilbo could see how the young dwarf’s cheeks turned pink when he said Master Dwalin’s name.  

Poor Ori looked about ready to pull his braids out. “Master Fili and Master Kili were there! They can confirm what I say is true.”

“Conspirators,” Dori hissed, giving Bilbo a sudden wink.

Bilbo decided to end Ori’s torment before the frustrated dwarf rolled down the hill in an attempt to get away from his brother’s scorn. “I don’t know if Master Dwalin will be there or not? I haven’t asked, but I do plan to invite all my friends. You are of course encouraged to be there Master Dori, if you want to watch over your brother.”  

“I just might.” Dori gave Ori a superior look. “My sword dancing is the best in Erebor and maybe I can show those hobbits a thing or two.”

Bilbo gulped, wondering if actual swords were involved.

Ori pouted. “Master Hannar would say otherwise. Every time he comes by the library he makes a comment about the three inches you shaved off his head last Durin’s Day.”

Dori sputtered. “What! I did not! It was maybe one and half at most.”

Bilbo laughed along with Ori, Dori huffing exaggeratedly. They were good company, Bilbo decided, and it was always good to see brothers getting along and teasing each other despite their age difference.

“So what brought you both to the Shire today?”

“Ah,” Dori said, tightening his cloak around him. “Right, we just thought we’d stop by for a visit, Ori had some questions he wanted to ask you.”

“Oh?” Bilbo puffed at his pipe and gave the younger dwarf an inquiring look.

“Yes, just some questions about hobbits.” Ori flipped to a blank page. “First off, why don’t hobbits wear shoes?”

Bilbo laughed. “We have no need for them, unlike others. The bottoms of our feet are like leather and the hair on tops keeps them adequately warm in cold weather.”

Both Dori and Ori tried to be unobtrusive about looking at Bilbo’s feet. Bilbo gave his toes a wiggle as if to say he’d caught them staring, but didn’t really mind.

“Is there a skill that hobbits are particularly good at?” Ori asked after making note.

Bilbo thought hard, “We are good at most anything that has to do with food, whether it be growing or eating it. Hobbits are also good at throwing parties, dancing, smoking, and a lucky few are good at wood craft. My father, you see, built Bag End himself as a wedding gift to my mother. He did have some help with the plumbing and like, but all the wood carvings and trim molding he did himself.”

Dori perked up, shooting Ori a queer look.

“O-oh, is that common. Giving such extravagant wedding gifts?” Ori didn’t look at Bilbo for the answer, instead he looked ready to dictate onto his book any answer Bilbo might give him.

Suspicious, Bilbo took a few long moments to puff at his pipe and blow a large smoke ring. “Not really, not for hobbits. As the oldest son, my father would have inherited a smial from his sire, but he did so want to impress my mother, a Took, and I expected they had grand plans to fill Bag End with many small feet, until my mother took ill after my birth and was unable to conceive afterwards.”

That was something even at a young age Bilbo had felt guilty for, not even knowing why except that because of his hard birth he would not be subjected to younger brothers or sisters. His mother had tried to dissuade him of this fallacy and explain to him that he was more than enough of a child for her, but he hadn’t never really believed her. He saw the way she looked at her cousins and their brood of children. She had been a most admirable mother, playing games and sneaking treats behind his father’s back. Some days Bilbo had felt selfish for keeping that all to himself when he saw how other mothers treated their sons.

“So what types of wedding gifts are expected?” Dori asked, nonchalantly fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Well,” Bilbo said, blushing lightly as he thought about Thorin and his proposal. Maybe he should give more thought to weddings from now on? “A lovespoon wouldn’t be too odd. It’s an old tradition from when our ancestors were settled in the Anduin Valley near the Greenwood. Lumber was plenty, so a young hobbit looking to court would collect some decent timber and carve a spoon with designs on the handle. It would communicate the thoughts one hobbit might have towards another when words could not be expressed. After the marriage, the couple would use the lovespoon in their first meal together as spouses. Of course now a fellow could just write a letter you see, expressing their feelings so there’s no need to go scouting for lumber or pricking the fingers carving.”

“Hmm,” Dori nodded, like everything made sense. “Would you use only wood or can you use any other material like metal?”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Why so curious? Are you thinking of courting a hobbit, Master Dori?”

“Me!” The older dwarf sputtered. “Of course not, I am just…curious, for a friend.”

“Right.” Bilbo dumped the ashes from his pipe on the ground, rolling his eyes. He had a feeling Thorin’s thick fingers had a hand in these questions. “I don’t see why other material would be scoffed at, it is more about the message behind the spoons than anything. My own mother suited my father with a box of silverware on their wedding day and no one found it remiss. In fact it was seen as a rather romantic gesture on her part.”  

“So hobbit’s like silver?” Ori spoke up, brows wrinkled.

“Not any more than any other metal. It was more of the gesture than the actual material.”

“I don’t understand?”

“The silverware was commissioned from a dwarf in Erebor actually, with such fine details. Each spoon had a different design and each with a message for my father. Like the one with a holly design meant that she foresaw domestic happiness with him in their union, or a tulip design for the steadiness of her love.”

Ori nodded, “That does sound romantic. Do you think one day I could examine them? I know a couple of silversmiths so I might know who designed them.”

“Of course,” Bilbo said, standing. “We can look at them now if you like.”

Ori jumped to his feet while Dori took his time about it. The two dwarves followed Bilbo inside, looking around in awe at the rooms and furnishings.

“It is very lovely,” Dori said. “Your sire was a grand architect.”

Bilbo felt a pleased smile break across his face. “Thank you!”

“Is this elvish made?” Dori held up a silver chalice Bilbo’s mother had received from Lord Elrond.

Bilbo fretted, resisting the urge to snatch the thing from the dwarf’s hands as he inspected the writing along the edge. “Yes, it was a parting gift from the Lord of Rivendell to my mother. When she was younger she went on an adventure with Gandalf the Grey through the Misty Mountains, they stopped in the valley of Imladris for a while and did the lord there a service. It is said to glow when it is filled with poison.”

“Was your mother taken to be poisoned a lot?”

Bilbo blinked, surprised by the question. “Not that I know of.”

Dori wrinkled his nose at the cup, but set it back carefully on the shelf and Bilbo sighed with relief. Ori was busy inspecting the silverware, making note of all the designs and the meaning behind each that Bilbo told him.

“I can’t tell whose design it is, but I can compare it to other’s work when we return to the mountain.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, confused as to why the young dwarf was so adamant about finding the maker of the silverware. “That would be fine. Maybe I can hire him to make a set for a cousin’s wedding coming up?”

Dori walked around inspecting things like the copper pots and glass blown wine cups. The older dwarf interrupting Ori’s questions with some of his own, wanting to know the uses of the doilies or dried herbs hanging from the rafters in the pantry. Bilbo kept Ori entertained with stories about his mother and her travels, answering odd questions every now and then about himself until the two were satisfied and it was time for him to get ready for work.

“Sorry to have kept you so busy,” Ori said, patting his book like it was an affectionate cat.

Bilbo smiled. “I don’t mind. I didn’t have much to do today except wait around for visitors.”

After Bilbo bundled up a packet of raspberry scones for the two dwarves to take home with them they gave each other their goodbyes, and the hobbit quickly changed and headed to Erebor for his shift. He had almost forgotten with the other two over that Thorin had talked about trying to stop by. He was rather thankful now for the distraction Ori and Dori had provided.

Bilbo was in the middle of separating the egg yolks from egg whites when he was accosted from behind.

“Mister Baggins.”

He looked towards the door and saw Kili peeking his head around the corner, making motions for the hobbit to follow.

“Hold on,” Bilbo sighed. Master Flar was just waiting for the egg whites for the nut cookies he was making and then Bilbo was to work on clean up.

“Hurry it up,” the Prince whispered loudly.

“I’m working, Master Kili.” Bilbo bit his lips in frustration, trying to keep his concentration on not breaking the yoke.

“Ugh,” Kili sighed, stomping into the kitchen in a slump. Many of the dwarves stopped working to stare at the Prince. “Who’s your master, I have need of you right now and will ask to borrow you for a while.”

Bilbo blinked, looking up at the disheveled Prince. “Master Kili, I don’t think--”

“T-take him your highness, his duties are done here for the night.” Master Flar had appeared beside them, bowing low and making sweeping motions with his flour dusted hands. Master Bombur, across the room with a turkey leg in his mouth, gave them a happy wave, but didn’t move forward to intervene.

Kili smirked, grabbing the hobbit from under the arms and literally hauling Bilbo out the kitchens.

“M-Master Ki--li!” Bilbo squawked, arms flailing as his feet were lifted off the ground.    

“You will be doing the kingdom more of a service than serving them food if you come with me.”

Bilbo sputtered, “I am a cook not a server!”

“If that is what you say,” Kili said, not minding at all that Bilbo was trying to wriggle free of his arms. The Prince took him farther down into some tunnels that Bilbo had never seen before.

“I can’t be here. I’m not supposed to go lower than the kitchens of Erebor,” Bilbo whispered, catching the concerned looks from the other dwarves walking the halls. He didn’t know if they were alarmed by the fact that a hobbit was so far into the mountain or the image of their Prince carrying a hobbit around like a vexed mother would a child, possibly both.  

“I am a Prince,” Kili sniffed. “I give you permission to travel anywhere in Erebor you want. Consider my home your home and may you forever feel welcome in it.”

“You are too kind,” Bilbo grunted, trying to hide his pleased smile behind a frown. “Where are you taking me?”

The tunnels around them were getting darker the deeper into the mountain they went. There were also fewer dwarves walking about, and the ones they saw were dressed in chainmail and thick leathers. The crystal lanterns glowing brighter and the smell of musk enhanced the further they went.

“I won’t be able to find my way back,” Bilbo moaned. Everything looked alike, there were no distinguishing features about the tunnels or marks to make note of where they were. When Kili made a sudden right turn, Bilbo had been scared the Prince was about to push him into a solid wall of granite. Instead, a door opened up into a small auditorium. Purple crystals were lining the circular wall and giving off an ethereal glow, between the wall and center ring were small stone benches circling a small arena in the middle filled with soft looking sand. It was one of the first rooms Bilbo had seen in Erebor not furnished with finery of some type or gold designed into the walls and ceiling.

“Then you should just stay here forever,” Kili smirked and set the hobbit back on his feet. Bilbo dusted himself off, upset to see that he was covered in flour and the odd bit of food scraps.

“If you were not a Prince I’d box your ears,” Bilbo said, glaring up at the dwarf. The hobbit’s ire only seemed to make Kili pleased and he patted Bilbo on the head.

“No you wouldn’t.”

Bilbo sighed and shook his head. What he would or wouldn’t do didn’t matter, Kili was a Prince and he couldn’t pull a hair from his head without being thrown in the dungeons, Bilbo imagined.  

“Where are--” Bilbo started to say, but stopped when he looked down at the center arena.

There was Thorin and Fili training with swords, both shirtless and sweating.

“Again,” Thorin growled out, raising his large sword towards Fili. The young dwarf looked about ready to tip over, blond hair in tangles and arms shaking as he held up his sword. Fili didn’t complain though, but that could have been because he was panting so hard he could hardly draw the breath to speak.

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo sighed.

“They’ve been at it for a while and when Fili drops, I’m next.” Kili put an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders and pulled him near. “Think you can do something about that?”

Bilbo looked up at the young dwarf and frowned. “Is this why you pulled me from the kitchens, because you don’t want to end up like your brother there?”

Kili shrugged, grinning mischievously down at the hobbit. The other two were still practicing, having not noticed the audience they now had, swords clashing with a loud clang, metal against metal. Sometimes one would throw a surprise fist or try to trip the other, but to Bilbo it didn’t like either was getting the better of the other. The only thing he could tell was that Thorin seemed the least tired of the two, and Fili’s sword was listing downward more often than not.

“Brother! Thorin!” Kili called out, just as the two started up again. Thorin at first didn’t even glance over, which Bilbo thought was rather smart of him since he had a sharp object coming at him, but Fili did a quick glance and then a double take.

“Mister Baggins?”

Thorin’s sword dropped a millimeter from where it was raised, “Do not try to trick me again. Your games are getting even more ridiculous than before.”

Fili pulled back, pointing his weapon towards the sand at their feet. “I’m not lying. Kili has brought our hobbit down to the training grounds.”

“ _Our_?” Thorin relaxed his stance, giving Fili one last glance to make sure it wasn’t a diversion before looking towards the entrance. “Bilbo,” Thorin said, eyes widened in surprise.

Bilbo gave his suitor a little wave.

Of course Fili used the distraction to charge his guard, roaring loudly as he jumped forward to tackle the other dwarf. Thorin side stepped him easily and Fili landed on the soft sand belly first.

“What are you doing here Bilbo,” Thorin asked, running a hand through his sweat soaked hair. The blond dwarf at his feet spit sand from his mouth, grumbling to himself in Khuzdul. Thorin tried to be inconspicuous about kicking Fili in the side, but Bilbo saw and gave the older dwarf a stern look.

“I brought him un-Thorin,” Kili said. “I thought he might like to see how you do your job for a change.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “I have never seen Bilbo at his. I have only tasted the fruits of his labors.”

Bilbo blushed, wiping his dirty hands against the side of his pants. Kili gave him a hearty shake about the shoulders when he noticed the hobbit’s shy demeanor. “The kitchens are not hidden from you, surely one day you can spare a moment to visit him,” Kili said cheerfully.

Thorin frowned, “My schedule is most erratic and I don’t think he would like someone standing around and taking up space in his kitchen when he has to move around.”

“Well,” Bilbo said. “They aren’t _my_ kitchens. I was in the middle of my work when this most vexing dwarf appeared and swept me away.” The hobbit gave Kili a poke in the side, hopefully communicating that he was only teasing about some of it. Thorin’s frown darkened.

“He should know better than to bother others.” Thorin fixed Kili with a disapproving expression. “He shall be punished for his misbehaving.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo called out, worried that he’d somehow gotten the younger dwarf in trouble.

“Down here Prince Kili, time for your lessons.” Thorin pointed at the sand near his feet. Fili had picked himself up and was heading out of the circle, still spitting sand and trying to get it out of his mustache and beard.    

Kili groaned, rolling his eyes skyward and dropping his arm from around Bilbo. “But Mister Baggins here, don’t you want to talk to him instead.”

“I will not shirk my duties of training you two just because Bilbo is here. He can sit and watch since he has traveled all this way, and then after I’ve laid you two to ruin I’ll escort him back home.”

Kili gave his brother a pat on the back. “Are you sure you want to do this, what if Bilbo sees you lose and falls in love with my mighty dwarfish prowess instead? You would hate if his affections fell for a younger and more able dwarf than yourself.”

“Whelp,” Thorin growled. Kili hopped into the sand, doing some maneuver of stepping on his brother’s fallen blade and kicking it up into his hand before swinging it around in an arch.

Bilbo stood there a moment awkwardly, not knowing whether to sit in the back in case things did get violent and blood was spilled or near to the front by Fili. Thorin and Kili were already into their training session, Kili hopping about like a jester shouting things in Khuzdul that had Thorin growing red faced as he slashed out.

“Hobbit,” Fili called out, gesturing Bilbo forward. “I need help.”

Bilbo shuffled forward as he looked at the younger dwarf’s injuries, ever aware of the goings-on in the arena. Thorin, it looked, had taken to leaving bruises from the blunt end of his sword all abouts the young Prince’s body, and there was a large nasty purple thing growing around Fili’s shoulder blade that really had him concerned.

“Are you okay? Should I try to find a healer?” Bilbo sat beside Fili and helped by holding some of the leather guards as the dwarf gently unbuckled them. He was afraid to touch, not only because Fili was a Prince, but also because everywhere he looked seemed tender and sore.

“I am fine. No worse than usual.” Fili gave Bilbo a small smile, the sprinkling of sand about his face made him look like Master Pumpernickel did after he’d been digging in the garden for bugs.

The hobbit looked worried. “Is Thorin always this hard on you two?”

“Do not be upset with Thorin,” Fili advised. “It is his duty to make sure we are well versed in combat. Otherwise what kind of Princes would we be if we could not even lead our people in battle? A King who could not risk his life for his people is no King fit to rule the people.”

Handing the Prince a skin of water setting at their feet, Bilbo nodded. “I understand. It just seems so brutal to us hobbits. We are not a fighting bunch, you know.”

Fili took a drink and handed the skin back, looking somewhat refreshed now that he was sitting down and hydrated. After a moment of watching Fili wince with every move he made of his arms above his shoulders, Bilbo gave up waiting for him to ask for the help specifically and fussed at the Prince’s mane, running a hand through his hair to get the tangles and sand out as best as he could.

There was a thud in front of them and Bilbo looked up to see Kili had somehow gotten Thorin on his back. The older dwarf was gritting his teeth, ears slightly red, and brows furrowed in a deathly glare as Kili giggled from where he stood above Thorin.

“Concede to youth.”

“Never.” Thorin kicked out and Kili’s arms pin-wheeled as his feet were knocked out from under him.

Fili beside him gave a small chuckle as Bilbo gasped. “He is not harmed, Mister Baggins. Dwarves are made of sterner stuff.”

Bilbo was unsure if Fili was talking about Kili or Thorin, but he nodded anyways. Inside the ring they had taken up swords again after jumping to their feet, dancing forward to strike each other and trying to land blows on the armored parts of their bodies.

It might have been the glow from the crystals or just an odd bit of shadows, but the sweat glistening down Thorin’s chest drew Bilbo’s eyes. The thick hair there was curled, wet with perspiration while the smudges of dirt highlighted the defined muscles about Thorin’s person. How Thorin’s abs would flex when he raised his sword or his broad shoulders would bunch as he was shielding a blow. Even the sweat stains on the little bit of clothes the dwarf wore wasn’t enough to disgust Bilbo, and if anything he found Thorin like this more heady than when he was dressed in furs and bright colored wools. With his wild dark hair and fierce eyes, Thorin had never been so attractive to Bilbo than he was at that moment, and the hobbit squirmed in his seat trying to hide his excitement.

“You should close your mouth before Thorin finds something to put in there,” Fili teased, bringing Bilbo out of his stunned admiration of the older dwarf. “I think I am much too young to see what he would do to you if given half the chance.”

“I wasn’t--no! Eru, he wouldn’t--” Bilbo stuttered, cheeks flaming red.

Fili laughed, “You are distracting Thorin enough with your presence. I don’t know what he would do if Kili knocked him over again because you were gaping at him. I like my brother in one piece and Thorin would not let any live to see him bested twice.”

“Mahal’s beard!” Kili appeared at the edge of the ring in front of Fili and Bilbo, laboring hard for breath. “You are more vicious today than any other. I thought Mister Baggins being here would make you go easy, you don’t want him to think you are a brute.”

“Come, you were extolling me on the better-qualities of youth but a moment ago,” Thorin growled, smirking slightly at Kili’s wilting form. “Do you give up so easily? I have fought elves whom lasted longer.”

Kili hissed a curse and threw himself at Thorin. The two fought for a long while, Bilbo trying not to be distracted by flexing muscles and nubile bodies as Fili led commentary on the fighting styles or types of wounds certain blows would give if the two were fighting for real. By the time Kili finally toppled over to his knees even Thorin was panting, wiping away sweat and throwing his hair back as it stuck to his neck.

“We are finished for the day, you two may retire now. Head to the baths then have a meal brought to you since you have missed dinner,” Thorin said, sheathing his sword in a scabbard laid out by his shirt on a bench. Fili moved forward to help his brother stand and after a nod towards Bilbo, nearly dragged the younger dwarf out of the room.

Bilbo watched the door close with bewildered curiosity until he suddenly noticed he was alone in a room deep in the mountains with a shirtless Thorin.

“Um, I just…” Bilbo tried to look anywhere but at where Thorin was bending over to pick up his things. “Are you thirsty?” Bilbo asked lamely, trying not to be flustered by his suitor’s half-dressed state. Now that Thorin wasn’t moving around so much, the hobbit could see quite well how defined exactly the dwarf was. Even the cloth of his pants stuck to the thick muscles of Thorin’s thighs and Bilbo felt his mouth dry up as he looked his fill.

“Hmm,” Thorin smirked, sauntering towards where the hobbit sat. “That I am.” Thorin kneeled to pick up the water skin at Bilbo’s feet, looking up at Bilbo as he took a large gulp and a bit of water trickled past his lips and down his neck. Bilbo felt like Thorin was being completely unfair now.

“You tease,” Bilbo hissed, crossing his legs. “Indecent. Not only am I alone with you in an area I could not escape out of if I wanted, but you aren’t even properly dressed.”

Thorin smacked his lips together, pink tongue peeking out to swipe his lips. “Ah, you are right. So you are to some extent my prisoner now.”

“Thorin, please…” Bilbo whined, squirming away when Thorin reached for him and batting away the hands that grasped at his legs. “This is not proper courting at all!”

Thorin froze, as if remembering the seriousness of their courtship and Gandalf’s lectures. Bilbo didn’t mind the teasing and the looking, but the touching was something entirely different than what Bilbo was use to or ready for.  

“You are right, I apologize.” Thorin held out a hand instead to help Bilbo stand. The hobbit took it after a moment of trepidation, more because of the dwarf’s sweaty grasp than any real fear that Thorin would continue with his tempting acts. Since they were both dirty though, Bilbo shrugged away his susceptible notions of propriety and kept his fingers tangled with Thorin’s.

The dwarf gave him a pleased smile, “Would you want to use the showers here or would you rather I take you home?”

“I would need a change of clothes after a shower,” Bilbo said, “So its best I head home. Master Pumpernickel is most likely up waiting for my return anyways.” Though someday Bilbo hoped to see the famed hot springs and bathing rooms of Erebor. There was a legend that the waters had a healing ability that turned old skin new and bettered the lame back to strength. No dwarf would verify to anybody in the Shire if the myth was true, only a few hobbit relatives married to dwarves would even confirm the spring’s existence.

“Beast,” Thorin huffed.

“Be nice,” Bilbo leaned into Thorin’s naked arm. “Master Pumpernickel is a great help, he’s been eating the caterpillars in my tomato garden and keeping my nosy relatives from untimely visits. Besides, he is less likely to make snide remarks about our courting than anybody else we know.”

Humming, Thorin led Bilbo out the auditorium and down more unfamiliar hallways until they somehow ended up at the east door.

“I would go the rest of the way with you but I fear I would not be able to pull myself away to return for the night.” Thorin pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s cheek. “I am happy I got to see you today. The meetings ran longer today than expected and I cursed Gandalf for giving me such false hope.”

Bilbo bit his lips, and after a moment of indecision stood on his tiptoes and kissed Thorin’s cheek in return. “I will see you later this week won’t I?”

The dwarf looked undoubtedly pleased with himself, practically glowing in the moonlight. “Of course, I have things to prepare, but our next meeting will certainly be longer and with less of an audience to heckle us.”

Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hand in his one last time and then quickly turned away, afraid if he stayed a moment later he’d give up all proper decorum and jump into the dwarf’s arms.

Master Pumpernickel was waiting for him when he returned home, eyes narrows and tail twitching ominously like he knew what Bilbo had almost done. The creature grumbled as Bilbo opened the door, huffing when Bilbo didn’t automatically head to the kitchen to get him a snack. Instead Bilbo heading to the bathroom and didn’t come out for a long while.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of get the feeling that Nori would totally use Dwalin’s blunder with Ori as a way to get out of trouble. You know if Dwalin caught Nori in a compromising situation thieving where he’d usually arrest him, that Nori would totally play the ‘you fondled my baby brother card’ and while Dwalin stood there sputtering, Nori would make an escape. Might be more Ori/Dwalin later, haven’t decided yet.  
> Also the Farandole is a real dance. I looked it up on youtude and it really looks like something the hobbit’s would dance to, it reminded me a little of the dances they did at Bilbo’s birthday party in the Fellowship. The circle hop is made up, and sword dancing has no basis for any specific type of dance.


	9. In the Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping in Dale, Glóin and Gimli, and elves.

****

 

On Hevensday, the first day of Bilbo’s three day break, the hobbit awoke and decided to do something about Thorin’s courting. They’d seen each other in glimpses the last few days, but since they both worked and Thorin never really had a set schedule it was erratic at best. Bilbo had taken to peeking down the hallways every time a dark haired dwarf walked by the kitchens and had once mistaken Fili as Thorin by accident, much to the Prince’s amusement.

So Bilbo got dressed, ate breakfast and second breakfast, put a couple of coins into his pockets, and headed to the markets of Dale for some shopping.

He had an idea of what he needed. First, he’d look for some trinkets for the dwarf, just little things to gift Thorin with when he brought Bilbo his courting gifts. It would be bad manners to receive a gift and not give one in return, especially one of value. Then, he maybe would inquire about a weapon he could either buy or have made for Thorin, since the Shire didn’t make any and Bilbo had no idea how to go about finding one of good quality. After all his shopping was done, he’d stop by Daleshire farms and ask for a branch from one of the apple wood trees to make a lovespoon with. He’d finally decided to go with the original tradition instead of having one commissioned.

“Where are you off to, Mister Baggins?” Hamfast asked from over the fence, garden shears in hand.

“To Dale. If I have visitors can you please tell them to come back later,” Bilbo requested, closing the gate behind him. “I shouldn’t be gone long.”

“Sure can.” The plump hobbit waved. “Be safe, there’s talk of strange folk about lately.”

Bilbo nodded, waving goodbye. To hobbits, anyone not a hobbit was considered strange folk and warned to take precaution around. Bilbo suspected tongues had been wagging with all the odd visitors he’d had over to Bag End these last few weeks.

Following the river path and over the fertile hills of the Shire, Bilbo eventually made it to the main road heading to Dale. There were already large groups traveling between the city of Men and Erebor, mostly merchants and farmers wanting to sell their wares before the sun got too high to make staying out comfortable. Bilbo was able to follow behind a caravan of dwarf toymakers, who gossiped about an up-and-coming wedding of someone mildly important in the mountain and the future festival with the elves.

“I hear they only eat hay, like horses,” One dwarf whispered ghoulishly to a younger one. “And they’ll cut the fair hair right off your head and mistake it for food if they’re starving.”

“What!” The tiny dwarf scuttled back behind his mother. The female dwarf scowled, giving a pointed pat to her scabbard.

“Err, what I meant was, only if they’re starving, ya see? It hardly happens, only to little dwarvlings who wander away from their mams.”  

Bilbo bit his lips, trying not to snicker at the pair. The young dwarf pulled at his mother’s skirts, wide eyes beseeching. “Is tha’ true?”

“Only to bad children and husbands who don’t listen to their wives,” The mother nodded, running a hand through his child’s gold locks.

“I don’t ever want to meet an elf!” The child spat, rubbing his face in his mother’s clothes and howling.

“Then you better stick close to me,” the mother said. “Elves have been spotted in the markets the last few days.”

The male dwarf caught Bilbo watching and hung back for a second to pull even with him. “He likes to wander off while in town, we aren’t saying it be mean, just a precaution against dangers.”

“Still, surely there are better monsters to pick than elves.” Bilbo didn’t remember if his own mother had used a trick like that, but he’d seen his aunts and uncles use stories of wolves and wargs coming close to town as a deterrent to keep their children from wandering too far off.  But it was a real fear, not something made up like elves eating hair.

The dwarf shrugged. “He’s stubborn. Only thing he’s scared of more than elves is a bath.”

Bilbo laughed. As they walked, he got to know the family and was introduced to the mother and child. He learned they were coming to Dale to sell some of the wooden toys the father made, while the mother would need to shop for some fabric and lace to make a new gown.

“Almost Durin’s day,” the female dwarf said. “Got to look my best. They say the Prince is engaged and will be presenting his intended to his father and the people. It’s to be an extra special affair.”

“Oh?” Bilbo was shocked, was Fili or Kili getting married?  

“Yes, they say it’s a secret. No one knows who it is, only a select few, but the rumor is that the suitor is so beautiful they put the stars to shame and the Prince’s companions were heard calling his beloved a sweet innocent thing,” she sighed. “Tis a fabled romance they say. Story is the mysterious love is but a chimney sweep, one of lowly birth and no prospects, but was somehow able to steal the Prince’s heart with one word from their pink petaled lips.”

“Sound like a burglar fairy to me,” the male dwarf grumbled. “I’ve seen all the chimney sweeps, not a one of them without spots and a missing tooth. The Prince falls for one of them and I’d say he’s blind as a bat to call them even humble looking.”  

The female dwarf swatted her husband, “Stop that, you shouldn’t say things like that about royalty.”

“Yes dear,” The male dwarf sighed. Bilbo laughed, making note to ask Thorin about the story later.

“Anyways,” The mother sniffed. “Will a hobbit like yourself be joining in the festivities?”

“Well, the Shire will be holding its own party,” Bilbo answered. As much as he’d heard about the Durin’s day festival, he hadn’t actually been invited to it by any of his dwarf friends or Thorin. Not that he was upset about it, he had enough on his plate handling his own dwarf to deal with a mountain full of them in a party mood. That wasn’t even counting all the celebrations the Shire would be having. Bilbo would be amazed if he even found the time to stop by and visit Erebor that week.

“For shame,” the father said, shaking his head. “We have elves joining us but no one thought to invite the hobbits. They’d be better company than King Thranduil and his lot of stiff necked tree-huggers.”

Bilbo smothered a smile. “Surely it won’t be that bad. I heard elves make some of the best wine and their dancing is something to be admired.”

“Dancing, bah!” The male dwarf spit.

“Dear,” the mother chastised. The young child was trying to copy his father, a trail of spit hanging from his chin.

At the entrance to Dale, Bilbo broke off from the caravan group and headed towards the open market. Children ran about his feet, human and dwarf alike, all nearly as tall as he with no fear of treading on hobbit toes. The adults were rather pushy themselves, shoving wares and baskets of food towards Bilbo’s head, yelling their prices and offering discounts.

It was all pretty intimidating and Bilbo had half a mind to just give up and settle for the hobbit market when something caught his eye.

“It’s a pretty thing isn’t it,” the merchant whispered shrewdly, his kohl-lined eyes staring wide at Bilbo. “Very rare this side of the Misty Mountains.”

Bilbo ran his fingers down the thin teeth of the comb, testing its strength. The spine had a carving of an eagle on it, mid-flight with its wings spread. There was something very appealing about it. Bilbo couldn’t help but think of the dwarves propensity towards hair care and thought a comb might be a good trinket to gift Thorin with.

“Shopping for a pretty lass? Or yourself? Not bad, not bad. It’s made from elk antlers, carved in Rohan by a virgin maid. I have a brush to match it.” The merchant waved to his other merchandize, indicating a large brush with a sparrow design.

Bilbo cut the merchant off, “No thanks, I just want this. How much?”

They haggled for a minute, the merchant trying to overcharge him since he wasn’t taking the matching brush, but Bilbo was able to get a decent price in the end. The suggestion that a virgin maid had carved it was ridiculous, and Bilbo was able to get a discount since the merchant couldn’t prove the rumor. The merchant scowled, called Bilbo shrewd and waved him off after he paid for the item. He carefully pocketed the comb and continued on with his shopping.

He ended up buying a new quill and splurged on some carbon ink for himself, since he was running low, and a couple of beeswax candles. There was also a hair pin designed with coral pink flowers that he thought would look most fetching on Primula Brandybuck, who would be coming of age soon.

As he looked around for more gifts for Thorin, he came to the ominous conclusion that he really didn’t know any of the dwarf’s hobbies or interests. Bilbo knew Thorin was a guard, and besides a weapon of some type Bilbo had no idea if there was something Thorin would need for his profession that he either hadn’t the time to buy for himself or enough money to purchase. Stopping by a forge, Bilbo decided to ask a man-smith for advice.

“If he’s a warrior type, maybe a wet stone or some skin oil to keep his blade from rusting,” The man said, wiping his hands on his apron. “Do you know what type of blade he has?”

“No.” Bilbo wrung his hands together, feeling lost and disappointed. The only time he’d seen the blade was when they’d first met and he’d hardly given it much a glance.

“Hmm, if he’s a dwarf their weapons are usually made of steel. I mostly work with iron, but I might have something for you.” The blacksmith led Bilbo into his shop, rustling around on the high shelves for what he was looking for. Bilbo looked around and admired the work he saw.

“Do you know much about weapons or armor?” The hobbit held a helmet up and weighed it. The thing was heavy and Bilbo could hardly see how wearing it would be comfortable.   

The tall man laughed, “I am a blacksmith. Nothing like the forgers of Erebor but I’m not bad either.”

“Do you have a suggestion…” Bilbo paused, hanging the helmet back up. “I’m thinking of having a weapon made for a friend of mine, but I do not know what type to have commissioned.”

The man handed over a glass bottle filled with oil and a long hard grey stone. The stone looked like any other that could be found on the mountain and Bilbo wondered if he was being scammed. “Well, if you’re not looking for anything specific, maybe a dagger?”

“Oh.” Bilbo blinked, handing over some coins. Before the man could show Bilbo his collection of weapons, the hobbit beat a hasty retreat. He didn’t think Thorin would appreciate a weapon not made by dwarf hands, and he made note to talk to some of his dwarf friends about finding someone to hire later.

Bilbo was done for the day, though he’d only found one gift for Thorin, and was about to head back to the Shire when he caught sight of a frantic Glóin.

“Master Glóin!” Bilbo waved and the red-headed dwarf rushed to him.

“Have ya seen my Gimli? I’ve looked everywhere for him, turned my head for a second and he disappears.” The dwarf pulled at his beard, looking wild-eyed and hysterical.

“Sorry, I’ve never met him and wouldn’t know if I saw him,” Bilbo apologized. “I can help you look though if you describe him.”

“Thank ya, thank ya, Mister Baggins. He’s about yea high, red bearded, has his mother’s nose, and my temper.” Glóin motioned towards an invisible person. “He’s going to get me in so much trouble with his ma if she finds out I lost him.”

Bilbo took one side of the market and Glóin the other, together they worked down the road calling out for Gimli and searching hiding spots a young dwarf might think to conceal himself.

Glóin lagged behind, trying to look for his son in a shop filled with mining tool when Bilbo came across the most particular crowd he’d seen yet.

Elves. Tall, regal beings, with long silver hair and fair features walking about the markets of Dale like it was an everyday occurrence. The cloak one wore looked to be the finest material Bilbo had ever laid eyes on, it glittered like crystals in the sun and was so beautiful many people stopped to stare. Another wore rich green with intricate leaf designs about the hem and sleeves. The other four elves wore the gold and silver uniform that Bilbo figured was that of the guards, if the weapons at their hips were anything to go by. Tall folk and dwarves alike gave them a wide berth, going out of their way not to jostle the visitors and openly gawking.

Except for one red-bearded dwarf who was waving a fist up at the elf in green.

“Oh dear,” Bilbo muttered, shifting from foot to foot. He didn’t know if he should go back and find Glóin first or if he should stop Gimli from making more of a scene than he already was. The decision was taken out of his hand when one guard stepped forward and picked the young dwarf up by the collar and the group of elves laughed.

“P-please, put him down.” Bilbo rushed forward, grabbing at Gimli’s feet. At that height, the fall would surely hurt the young dwarf. Gimli kicked out, arms waving as he tried to hit the elf holding him.

“Look, its mother has come to save him,” the elf guard laughed.

“Let me go! Trickster! Picking me up, ya afraid to fight fair?” Gimli hollered out, nearly hitting Bilbo in the face with the steel toe of his boots. The other elves laughed, hiding their smiles behind their white sleeves. Bilbo’s opinion of elves sunk. These weren’t the graceful and wise people he’d heard stories about, but bullies in pretty garments.

“Please, I beg of you. He’s just a child, you shouldn’t hold him like that,” Bilbo pleaded. The pretty elf woman in the glitter cape turned away, nose in the air like she’d smelt something bad and Bilbo felt a lump settle heavy in his stomach. If he couldn’t get compassion from a regal maiden like her, he didn’t expect any from her guards.

“Ha, hear that, mighty arrogant of the the dwarves to send their children out to challenge us,” the guard elf said, shaking Gimli until Bilbo fell off the young dwarf’s feet. “Couldn’t wait till the feast to see us beat them.”

Gimli struck out with his hands, almost landing a blow against the elf’s chin, but the guard moved too fast and in his quick movement he almost stepped on Bilbo.   

“Sorka, set the dwarf down,” the green fashioned elf commanded, setting a hand on the guards forearm. “Gently.”

Of course the elf released Gimli and the dwarf fell heavy into Bilbo’s arm. They tumbled to the ground and Gimli landed hard on Bilbo’s ankle, and the hobbit cried out.

“Sorka…” the elf admonished.

Gimli quickly picked himself up, wiping at his dusty clothes and giving Bilbo a curious look. “Do I know ya?”

Bilbo moaned, hoping he hadn’t broken any of the purchases in his pockets and did a quick inventory that everything was okay. The young dwarf hadn’t been light and the breath had been knocked out of Bilbo from the weight of Gimli’s stout build. “I’m Bilbo Baggins, a friend of your fathers. We’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh, oops.” Gimli flushed. The majority of the elves turned away, their amusement over now that the young dwarf was prohibited from being teased. The one elf in green stuck close though, bending to his knees to check Bilbo’s ankle.

“Are you hurt, we hadn’t meant to harm anyone,” The elf said, blinking wide blue eyes at Bilbo.

Bilbo jerked his foot back before the elf could touch him. “It’s fine. Just leave us, haven’t you caused enough problems?”

“I’m sorry,” the elf paused, holding a hand over his chest as if to bow. “My name is Legolas Greenleaf, we did not come to Dale to cause a disturbance and I apologize for mine and my companion’s behavior. Let me at least make sure you are not injured too critically to walk.”

Gimli hovered close, watching over Bilbo’s shoulder as the elf checked the hobbit’s ankle for damage, his ire at the elves tempered by Bilbo’s whimpering.

“Will Mister Baggins be okay?”

“It does not look broken.” Legolas’ fingers were cold to the touch and the thin fingers massaged the muscle ligaments of Bilbo’s leg until the hobbit flinched. “Ah, there. Just a light sprain, it seems.”

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been worried that he’d pulled something that would keep him off his feet for days. With a bit of rest, he could be back on his feet tomorrow and would have no problems standing on it by the time he had to work.

Glóin ran up about the time Legolas started wrapping Bilbo’s ankle in a soft cloth he’d pulled from his pocket. The elf promised it would help heal the strained muscle by some property woven into the threads. The older dwarf hugged his son, said something scolding in Khuzdul, before turning to assess the situation.

“Mister Baggins! Are ya okay? Has this blasted elf harmed ya in some way?”

“No, Master Glóin,” Bilbo said, more exasperated by the fussing the three were heaping on him than his injury. They were blocking off traffic sitting there in the middle of the road and they received plenty of dirty looks from the passerby for it. “It was an accident. Master Greenleaf did me no damage and I should thank him for taking the time to inspect my injury.”

Now that the other elves had wandered off down the market, Bilbo took his time examining the elf left behind. Legolas was fair like the others, except for his dark eyebrows, his cheekbones high and skin unblemished, eyes as blue as cornflowers and hair as silver as starlight. If it hadn’t been for the attitude of his companions, Bilbo might be taken in awe of the elves, but now he only felt disappointed that his first encounter had played out as it had.   

“ _He_ isn’t going to like this,” Glóin muttered, pulling at his beard.

Bilbo glanced up in confusion. “Who?”

Glóin coughed and turned red. “Err, nobody lad. Ya too injured to walk?”

“I can take him back home by horse,” Legolas offered, slipping his arms under Bilbo’s knees and back, before lifting him. Bilbo squawked, arms quickly latching around the elf’s neck in fright. He hadn’t been this high up before and he could suddenly see over the majority of people’s head. Bilbo tried not to cower in the elf’s arms, but he was suddenly vulnerable by his injury and the height he was at in a stranger’s arms.

“Oi! Put the hobbit down, he’s not your responsibility!” Glóin hollered, waving his hands in the air. Gimli took up stance between them, looking ready to bowl Legolas’ legs out from under him and snatch Bilbo from his arms. Legolas laughed, holding the hobbit closer to his chest.

“P-please, I ca-can walk,” Bilbo said, trying not to pull on the elf’s long, blond hair.

“Nonsense,” Legolas smiled genially down at the dwarves. “It will be no problem for me to return him safely home. I give you my word no further injury will come to him.”

“The _word_ of an elf,” Glóin grumbled, still reaching for Bilbo. “He’s our hobbit, we’ll take care of him.”

Legolas easily sidestepped the dwarf, swinging Bilbo quickly out of reach until the hobbit squeaked.

“I didn’t know dwarves owned the hobbits around here?”

Gimli looked confused at his father, most likely unsure why he was so adamant about the ownership of Bilbo. Glóin sputtered and Gimli took a step forward, “I will travel with you, to make sure you do nothing nefarious to my father’s friend.”

Legolas cocked his head to the side and stared down at the young dwarf with an odd smile. “If that is what you wish.”

“This is not good…” Glóin muttered, giving Bilbo a distress look.

Glóin didn’t look happy, but he conceded to letting the elf take Bilbo home if Gimli was there. After leaving a message with his companions as to where he was going, Legolas led them towards the entrance of Dale, where the horses were tied up waiting in a stable. The blond elf sat Bilbo at the front and then hopped up behind the hobbit.

“Does Master Gimli want a pony of his own?” Legolas smirked down at the young dwarf. “I am afraid you will not fit with us on my horse no matter your slight size.”  

Gimli snorted, “I can walk.” Bilbo dearly wished he could join him, for the mount was too large and it made sitting painful.

What proceeded then was the most awkward and uncomfortable journey Bilbo had ever encountered. Legolas tried to engage the hobbit and dwarf into conversation, but any time Bilbo opened his mouth to speak Gimli started muttering about nosy wood elves or cursing in Khuzdul. Bilbo was startled by the vehement disrespect Gimli held towards Legolas, and told himself he’d have to talk to Glóin about his son’s attitude, no matter if his cursing sent Legolas into gales of laughter. Giving up on conversation, Legolas started singing in Sindarin and Gimli turned as red as his hair.

“Oh!” Bilbo pulled at Legolas’ sleeve. “Can we stop here?” Bilbo indicated the apple fields to their right. Daleshire was known to have the best apples this side of the Misty Mountains. Owned and employed by a mix of Men and hobbits, the orchid produced some of the sweetest fruit any had ever tasted. Bilbo often used the apples picked from Daleshire in the pies he made.

“Is this where you live?” Legolas asked. Considering the elf hadn’t even asked where Bilbo lived in the first place, he could understand the confusion.

“No. I need a branch though from an apple wood. It’s for a…gift.”

“Hmm.” Legolas dismounted and made no move to help Bilbo off the wide horse. “We can handle this. What size do you need?”

Gimli swung the axe off his back and his eye glinted towards the trees. “Maybe the hobbit needs the whole tree?”

“No, no,” Bilbo rushed to say. “Just a branch, about arms length. I am making a lovespoon.”

“Lovespoon?” Legolas looked back curiously. “I have never heard of a thing.”

“Obviously,” Gimli snorted. The elf glared down at the dwarf before reaching up and snapping a limb off the closest tree.

Legolas offered the branch to Bilbo, “Will this be okay?”

It was actually better than Bilbo could have imagined, thick and fresh, with only a few stems of browning leaves on it. He would have had to settle for something that had already dropped to the ground if the elf hadn’t been there.

“Perfect.” Legolas looked proud of himself and hopped back onto the horse. Gimli muttered, picked a branch up from the floor and inspected it. It was dried up and darker than the one Legolas picked, but it had no stems or knots in it and would be easier to sand down to the shape Bilbo needed.

The young dwarf held it up to Bilbo, “What about another, just in case?”

“Um, sure,” Bilbo agreed with the forethought.  He figured it would be smart, in the event that he messed up the first one. He tucked both branches under his arms and held tight to the horn of the saddle since Legolas held the reins. The horse smelled quite horrible and Bilbo was often left sneezing into his elbows at the stench of the creature.  

Gimli wrinkled his nose up at Legolas and they started back towards the Shire. Elf and dwarf started up a ‘conversation’ in each their own language, Legolas would say something in Sindarin and Gimli in Khuzdul, and neither understanding the other except by tone. This had the added effect of irritating Bilbo too, since he could understand neither except for the small number of times his name was mentioned. Gimli reminded Bilbo much of Kili, who didn’t seem to know when it was better to be quiet and not make things worse. A few times Legolas looked about ready to kick Gimli into the ditch when the dwarf smiled pleasantly up at the elf with a comment or two.

Bilbo stayed silent and tried not to moan aloud when his annoyance at the two got to be too much. Both elf and dwarf appeared to be mature, but you’d never know it by the way they interacted with each other. The odd expressions of the people they passed only made Bilbo’s horror at the situation worse and he wished dearly he hadn’t left his hobbit hole today.

“Mister Baggins, we are here. Would you like me to carry you to your doorstep?”

“Of course he wouldn’t. The embarrassment of being seen with an elf,” Gimli grumbled.

Bilbo wiggled, wondering if a drop from the height of the horse would be worth aggravating his sprain. “No thanks, it’s just a short walk from here.”

It was a lie, they were only at the edge of the north farthing near Overhill, but the two were so absorbed in each other that Bilbo got away with it. Legolas helped him from the horse and reexamined the hobbit’s ankle.

“Tread lightly on it, Mister Baggins, and it should be fine by morning.” The elf patted Bilbo on the head like he was a child and the hobbit scowled.

“Thank you Master Greenleaf.”

“Just Legolas is fine,” the elf said, and he gave Bilbo a look so kind the hobbit felt he’d maybe been too harsh on his judgment towards the elf. “I hope we meet on better terms next time.”

“Same here.” Bilbo bowed, or tried to since he was mainly balancing on one foot.

Gimli made a motion to follow him but Bilbo waved him off, quite done with the two of them by now. “My cousin lives just ahead, I will stop there for some help if I need it

“Oh,” the young dwarf said, looking between Legolas and Bilbo. “Um, if ya sure.”

Bilbo smiled up at the two, “Thank you for the help, I must be going now.”

The two waved before setting back towards Dale, Legolas walking beside the young dwarf instead riding. Bilbo thought that was kind of him until he saw that the new height made it easier for Legolas to mess up Gimli’s curly mane. Oddly, Legolas seemed quite taken with the young dwarf no matter the manners expressed by Gimli.

Bilbo made it home with the help of a walking stick he found on the side of the road. Hamfast had looked rather aghast at the situation, asking if Bilbo had been set upon my robbers and thieves. After assuring his neighbor that it was just a sprain and a bit of rest would help, Bilbo finally made it inside his hobbit hole with much delight for the journey to finally be over.

Bilbo was just setting dinner up, wondering if Thorin might stop by and if he should set the table for two when the door was thrown open.

“Bilbo!”

The hobbit limped into the hall, wondering what had the dwarf in a fuss. “Thorin?”

For a moment Bilbo had thought his house was being raided by some monster. Thorin was wild haired and dirty, with a crazed look in his eyes that sent Bilbo a step back in fright. If it wasn’t for the relief that softened the dwarf’s face once he caught sight of the hobbit, Bilbo would have run and hid from him.

“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed, rushing to Bilbo’s side. “I heard you were hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Bilbo let Thorin help him to a seat and examine his ankle. “It’s just a sprain. I don’t know why everybody’s throwing up a ruckus about it.”

Thorin didn’t answer at first, his large hands encircled Bilbo’s ankle in a vice, not painfully but still tight. “I heard the most distressing news, that an elf had injured you in the marketplace. There was rumor a group of them had traveled to Dale from the Mirkwood and it’s usually no care of mine what they do there. At least until they gang up on my intended and a dwarf child like a pack of wargs. Had Glóin not been there to solve the issue I would have ordered them all banished.”

Bilbo’s brows furrowed. “Banished? But you can’t—wait hold on, a elf didn’t injure me. Gimli fell on top of me and my footing slipped is all. Really, things like this happen all the time and I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Thorin jerked, pulling his hands back quickly after setting Bilbo’s foot gently back to the ground. “You are much too kind to assign blame, both Gimli and Glóin’s story of the event matched up that the elf was the one to harm you. I will search out the elf whom did this and they will pay for this hurt. You have just healed from your last injuries and they’ve dealt you another.”

“What?” Bilbo reached for Thorin before he could leave and ended up grabbing his braids. “No! Thorin, you are being unreasonable. Come back here.”

The dwarf looked down at Bilbo like he was a helpless victim, too simple minded to see the problem. Bilbo had to resist kicking the dwarf in the shins, and the only reason he didn’t was because he didn’t want two bruised feet.

“All will be okay. I know one elf helped you back, and he will be spared, but the others will be severely punished,” Thorin promised, a dark gleam in his eyes that sent a shiver down Bilbo’s spine. And not the good kind.

Bilbo yanked hard on the braids until Thorin winced and finally kneeled down to his level. “No you won’t Thorin Oakenshield, or so help me I’ll spurn your courting like--like a--um, well okay, I might not spurn you, but I will be quite cross with you. Ohh,” Bilbo puffed up. “Are you calling me a liar? I know what happened to me and if I said it was an accident, I meant it!”

“Bilbo…”

“And what are you going to do, you’re a guard of Erebor. This happened in Dale, which means it’s something for the tall folk to deal with if elves are running around causing problems. Really now Thorin, stop taking things so dramatically and just listen to what I’m saying.”

Thorin didn’t look happy about what Bilbo said, but since the hobbit refused to release him until he agreed not to storm to Dale in a fit of rage, he could do little else but agree with whatever Bilbo asked.

“Fine, I will leave the matter alone. But should I come across them I demand that you let me seek repayment on your behalf,” Thorin grumbled.

Bilbo sighed. “That’s not leaving the matter alone at all. That’s just waiting until you can seek revenge when I might not be around to stop you.”

Thorin’s face screwed up in a disgusted frown, “Those elves--”

Tired of talking about it, Bilbo yanked once again on Thorin’s braids and kissed the dwarf’s lips. That shut him up quite well.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I don’t recommend writing with a sinus headache. I wanted to work Gimli and Legolas in there, though they really won’t have a main part in the story I thought they’d be worth mentioning. Next chapter will be a continuation of where I left off here…. ;)


	10. Aching Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin learn a little about each other, and Balin takes Bilbo to get a sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some dub-con kissing.

****

 

Bilbo had tried to keep the kiss light, just a gentle pressing of flesh against Thorin’s dry lips. Only when Bilbo tried to pull back Thorin surged forward, intent on continuing the kiss and devouring the hobbit in a heated passion. The rough scrape of his beard against Bilbo’s sensitive skin startled him and Bilbo gasped, opening his mouth to an even deeper onslaught. Thorin ran his hands through Bilbo’s hair and kept his head steady so he could control how deep they kisses, licking into the hobbit’s mouth like he was a man dying of thirst and Bilbo was a miraculous oasis.

“Thor--” Bilbo tried to call out, yanking on the dwarf’s braids. Thorin was practically leaning over him, pressing him back into the chair so there was no escape. He kicked out, hitting Thorin in the hip with his foot.

“Ow,” Thorin finally pulled back, flipping his hair back so Bilbo couldn’t pull on it. “What is the matter, you were the one to kiss me?”

Bilbo quickly put a hand over his mouth when it looked like Thorin might lean back in, pulling his knees to his chest and putting a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “Thorin,” Bilbo said, voice muffled. “Not so hard.”

Thorin scowled. “What?”

“I think you bit my lip,” Bilbo swiped his tongue out, checking for blood. There was only the taste of Thorin though, sharp and sweet like pickled beets.

Stepping back, Thorin seemed to take in Bilbo’s defensive position. His brows furrowed as he glanced the hobbit over. “I scared you.”

Bilbo blinked, unfolding and setting his hand in his lap. “Well…yes.”

“Why? Does kissing somehow frighten you? We are engaged.”

“No we are not.” Bilbo puffed up, tired of Thorin’s arrogance in regards to the hobbit’s feelings.

Thorin stepped back and slumped against the table, fixing Bilbo with a furious scowl. “What?”

“I haven’t even formally accepted your courting!” Bilbo exploded, all his anxiety and confusion for the last few days finally piling up until it was too much to bare. “I know dwarves do things differently but hobbit courting at least needs some type of mutual agreement before things get too heavy.”

“But you did not deny my affections,” Thorin said. “Therefore you accepted my courting as official.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo sighed. “I’m not a dwarf. You may expect things to go your way, and I might consent to your practices, but I am a hobbit and you need to consent to mine.”

Grunting, Thorin massaged his forehead as if fighting a headache. “Explain to me.”

Bilbo glared.

“Please,” Thorin growled.

“Well, don’t you think this is all going a little fast? We hardly know each other and already you’re telling others that we are engaged.”

“So?”

Bilbo had to turn away, troubled by the look Thorin leveled at him. “B-but, we… I was at the market today, shopping for you, and I didn’t know what to get you.”

Huffing, Thorin raised an eyebrow. “There is nothing I need so what does that matter.”

“That’s not the point,” Bilbo said. “I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know what you like, your hobbies or interest, I don’t even know if you have a family and if they’re okay with you courting a hobbit.”

“Ah, I see.” Thorin tipped his head up, looking towards the ceiling. “That is not something only you have difficulty knowing, I’ve never really had any specific interest besides my duty to the kingdom. I know I like you and the things you do. About my family…”

Bilbo peeked up at the dwarf, relief blossoming inside him that Thorin was at least sharing something of himself. Whether on purpose or not, the dwarf had been rather secretive about some things.

“They…” Thorin chewed on his lips as he struggled to find the words. “As long as I am happy, they will be also, and it will not matter that you are a hobbit.”

“That’s good, I guess.” It was at least one quandary that had been plaguing Bilbo, though he hadn’t necessarily had it at the forefront of his mind. “So you do have them then?”

Thorin gave Bilbo a suspicious look. “Yes.” The hobbit motioned for him to continue. “They are…I have a father and sister still on this plain, and two nephews.”

“Really! Will I ever get to meet them?”

Frowning, Thorin looked away. “There is… there is something about my family that… I would ask that you wait. My family situation is…difficult.”

Bilbo suddenly felt like maybe the conversation of Thorin’s family was one of deep sadness. The air about him radiated gloom and unease. “I-I, that’s fine.”

Thorin pursed his lips. “I would tell you everything here, but there is some things I’m afraid once you know will change your opinion of me.”

“What? Why would I think different of you?”

Thorin rubbed his hands down his trousers, a light sheen of sweat dusted his brow. “It’s… complicated.”

Bilbo cocked his head at the dwarf. “Complicated? Is it something bad?” Could Thorin be taking care of an ailing family member and think that the responsibility would scare Bilbo away? Or maybe his relatives were of an ill dispute and he didn’t want to taint Bilbo’s impression of them with tales of their reputation until he met them?

“No! I wouldn’t think so,” Thorin assured him. “It’s… Can I save it to tell you later, when I believe the timing is… right?”

Well, Bilbo couldn’t expect Thorin to just confess everything right then and there so he nodded. A look of startled respite flashed across the dwarf’s face and he seemed more relaxed.

“Thank you.”

“Its fine, I believe there should be time given to us to learn about each other gradually, I don’t expect to know everything about you by tomorrow. It just bothers me that we know so little of each other and yet we are moving so fast in our courtship. By hobbit standards we are practically eloping given we haven’t known each other for years before you became my suitor.”

Thorin stiffened, as if suddenly coming to a realization. “Is there a custom I need to perform to be accepted as your suitor? I know you are an adult but do I need to ask the head of your clan for your hand?”

Bilbo waved his concern off. “No, well, maybe you should at least send a letter to my uncle Isengrim, he’s head of the Took clan now, as a formal appeal for marriage. The Baggins are much less formal about these things.”

Nodding, Thorin clenched his jaw. “Any other hobbit customs I have been neglecting?”

“You probably shouldn’t go around tell everybody we’re engaged, you know.” Bilbo gave Thorin a stern glare. “First, I haven’t accepted any offer of marriage because you haven’t given any. Second, it’s bad manners not to inform the family first of a pending engagement.  Also, generally it’s seen as somewhat unromantic to send your friends out on errands to ask me my habits when you could just as well ask me yourself.”

That got Thorin in an uproar, “I have never!”

“Master Dori and Master Ori were here the other day!” Bilbo yelled back. “Asking about lovespoons and hobbit courting. If you had wanted to know I can tell you myself, I don’t think our friends should get involved in _our_ relationship.”

“Lovespoons? No, never mind. I have never asked those two to come here and interrogate you.”

“Oh,” Bilbo deflated, his indignation towards Thorin not as high as it was a second ago. “I’m sorry for accusing you then. But I am still concerned about you telling everyone, I would rather our courting be between just you and me, please.”   

Grumbling, Thorin gave a short nod.

“Good,” Bilbo said. “Now, there are still many issues we have to work out before the night is through.”

Thorin groaned, kicking a chair out from under the table to he could sit. “Fine, it’s not like I get enough of people talking _to me_ in Erebor.”

“And this here is why we should get to know one another better. I like to hash things out if there is a problem, I’m not the sort of hobbit that sit’s back and lets things carry on if it upsets me.”

“Yes, I know.” Thorin gave Bilbo a quirky smile.

“Hush,” Bilbo said, trying to be stern and not smile back. “I like you Thorin, what I know of you, but I fear there are many secrets between us.”

Thorin’s smile instantly vanished. “Secrets?”

“Tell me, do you even know what my favorite food is?”

“Apples?”

Rolling his eyes, Bilbo snorted. “No, I do like them. But I’ve always favored bread pudding with berries over most desserts.”

Thorin frowned. “I have never tried bread… pudding.” Thorin said bread pudding like he couldn’t quite imagine what Bilbo was talking about or how one went about making bread into pudding.

Smiling, Bilbo scooted his chair closer to Thorin, now more at ease in their conversation. “I will make you some next time you are over for dinner.”

“Tomorrow?” Thorin asked, and it actually sounded like a question more than a demand.

“If you decide to visit,” Bilbo said. “Are there any favorite foods of your own I could make?”

Thorin shook his head. “I’ve never preferred any type over another. Why don’t you make your favorite dishes so I can get a taste of what you like?”

“Sounds good.”

Thorin and Bilbo smiled ridiculously at each other, the relief and happiness of being in each other’s company and no longer in conflict. They talked for a little while, just basic things about what they liked or preferred, nonsense things that didn’t seem important except to close friends, their peculiar traits and odd quirks, stories of their adventures with their friends and past exploits. It was enlightening, and Bilbo never would have thought he’d be so happy learn that Thorin wasn’t a morning person, that he secretly disliked spiders, was learning to play the harp, and was somewhat directionally challenged out of the mountain.

Bilbo giggled, “How did you find your way back to Bag End?”

“How could I not remember that,” Thorin said. “I think that apple you threw at me knocked some kind of sense into me. I had no problem finding my way back afterwards.”

Laughing, Bilbo tugged Thorin closer, leaving a quick kiss on the dwarf’s cheek. Thorin smirked, pulling the hobbit’s chair closer by the arms until they were knee to knee.

“May I kiss you now,” Thorin breathed roughly. “I will be gentle this time.”

Bilbo flushed, biting his lips before soothing it with his tongue. Thorin watched, blue-grey eyes focusing on the movement. “W-we shouldn’t…”

“I believe kissing is also a way to get to know someone.” Thorin’s hooded gaze sent shivers up the hobbit’s spine. Really, Bilbo had nothing against kissing, he rather liked it, but for some reason it was a frightening endeavor with Thorin involved. He actually had to work up courage to nod.

“Slowly,” Bilbo whispered, eyes closing as Thorin moved closer. “Last time kissing you was what going to battle is akin to”

“Then surrender to me and I will be a most generous victor.” Thorin smirked, hands moving forward to gently cup the hobbit’s jaw. Their nose brushed, causing Bilbo to squeak out a nervous giggle, but soon, Thorin’s dry lips were against his. Hesitant this time, caressing and tender, his movements slow as he licked Bilbo’s mouth open. They both gasped, and Bilbo thought his heart was trying to escape out his chest and his lunged ached like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Thorin was practically purring, his chest rumbling from under the hobbit’s hands as he gradually pulled Bilbo closer until the hobbit was almost in his lap.

“Oh,” Bilbo moaned, pulling back with a wet smack and licking his lips. They felt used and sore, swollen where the dwarf had lightly nipped him.

“Better?” Thorin growled, his thumb stroking the bottom of Bilbo’s lips. Completely by accident, Bilbo wet his lips again and teased the digit.

Thorin groaned.   

Bilbo pulled Thorin back in for a few more kissing, alternating between gentle and deep, all the while keeping it slow enough to leave them both breathless. The scratch of Thorin’s beard was no longer distracting, in fact it sent excited tingles down his spine, a delicious knowledge that it was _his_ dwarf that was doing this to him and not some past hobbit admirer who’d steal kisses from him near the Bywater pool. Thorin’s confidence and brash approach was nothing like the attentions of a hobbit, who like subtly and control. He was like a fire, wild and untamed in his passions, never scared that he’d be denied or turned away from his intended.

Bilbo could feel Thorin smile and it made him smile in return. Their kisses turned quick, pulling back for a moment to smother a giggle before leaning back in.

“Do you feel like you know me better now?”

“A bit,” Bilbo said, tentatively moving forward for another. The kisses were addictive, _Thorin_ was addictive, the smell and taste of him, the general air about him, and his handsome appearance. Bilbo almost couldn’t believe that this dwarf was here, seeking his attention when he probably could have anybody he wanted. It was a heady attention and Bilbo shook from the pressure of it, wondering wildly why he hadn’t shaken apart yet.

Suddenly, Thorin was halfway across the room and cursing. Bilbo had been leaning forward so far he almost toppled off his seat. “Thorin?”

A hiss came from under his chair, and Bilbo looked down to see Master Pumpernickel retracting his claws and eyeing the dwarf like he was about to pounce.

“That beast,” Thorin spit. “It attacked me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Bilbo rushed, trying to shoo the creature away. He’d quite been enjoying himself with Thorin and wouldn’t mind continuing with his enjoyment. Master Pumpernickel growled, swiping a claw at the hobbit’s ankle. “Ouch!”

Thorin growled, unsheathing his sword. “Step back, I’ll deal with the beast.”

Hopping to his feet, Bilbo hurried to assure the angry dwarf. “No, I’m fine. He’s just reminding us, we shouldn’t be doing things like this alone. Please, Thorin put the sword away.”

Grumbling, the dwarf did, eyeing the cat with a disgusted look. Master Pumpernickel licked his paw, tail swishing behind him in agitation.

With the tense atmosphere now dispersed from the insertion of their chaperone, Bilbo nervously paced for something to do with his hands and ended up snapping his suspenders against his chest. Finally, he remembered his dinner was still sitting out ready to be eaten.

“Oh, would you like to stay for dinner?”

Thorin looked away from Master Pumpernickel and gave Bilbo a small smile. “I would, but I rushed here before finishing my duties.”

“Thorin!”

The dwarf shrugged. “I was worried you were gravely injured.”

“Still,” Bilbo huffed. “A sprained ankle is nothing to abandon your work for. Are you guarding the princes or king today?”

Thorin shuffled his feet, looking out the window towards the mountain. “It does not matter. I had originally planned to come over later but now I need to head back to finish was I left incomplete. Others will be upset I left my post without permission.”

“And here we were kissing this whole time.” Bilbo put his hands on his hips and glared at Thorin. “Don’t let me distract you. Go!”

Smiling, Thorin leaned forward and quickly kissed Bilbo’s cheek before Master Pumpernickel’s claws could get into him, dancing out of the way with a cheeky smirk. “It was worth it. I will return tomorrow afternoon, I have a surprise for you.”  

“Oh?” Bilbo swayed forward, lured by the sweet kiss from his suitor. His heart felt overflowing affection for the dwarf, his pulse beating through his limbs with the desire to hold Thorin and keep him forever.

Thorin gave Bilbo a charming grin, opening the door. “Yes my halfling. You will make a feast to gorge ourselves on and I will awe you with the thoughtfulness with my first courting gift. Tomorrow will be a pleasing day for both of us and I expect it will take more than a cat’s claws to chase me out of your hobbit hole.”

Bilbo pursed his lips at being called a halfling, but with the fondness decorating Thorin’s tone he let it pass. “Thorin…” Bilbo reached forward and straightened the dwarf’s cloak where he’d ruffled them out of place.

“Bilbo…” Thorin tucked a strand of curly hair behind the hobbit’s ear. “Sweet dreams and may tomorrow come ever faster as to put me out of my misery.”

Boldly standing on his toes, Bilbo pressed a solid kiss to Thorin lips until Master Pumpernickel’s howling got too distracting and he had to pull back. Thorin swayed for a moment, closed eyes blinking slowly open.

“Tease,” Thorin muttered, pulling reluctantly back and out the door. He walked backwards until he hit the fence, blushing lightly when he almost tripped over it.

Bilbo leaned against the door frame and tried not to laugh. He was quite unable to hide his smile though and he was sure he looked ridiculous there beaming at the retreating dwarf guard.

It was a long moment before Bilbo finally shut the door and went back to dinner.

***

Bilbo was with Hamfast in the garden when the unexpected visitor appeared. The two hobbits were hands deep into the dirt, giggling over something they’d heard about Otho and Lobelia when a large white beard appeared over the fence.

“Mister Baggins?”

Bilbo tipped his hat back and blinked up at the visitor, unable to get a good look at them because they were silhouetted by the sun. “Yes?”  

“Hello my lad, do you remember me?”

Standing, Bilbo dusted his knees. Finally able to see who was there, Bilbo about tumbled over when he saw it was the old dwarf that had been with that regal lady dwarf a week ago.

“Master B-Balin, am I correct?”

Smiling joyfully his face crinkled, the old dwarf nodded. “Yes! Very good!”

Ignoring the odd looks Hamfast was giving them, Bilbo tried to smile back. “Um, how can I help you Sir?”

“More like, I’ve come to help you.”

Looking around nervously, Bilbo clutched his trowel to his chest. “U-um, excuse me?”   

“Come with me,” Balin motioned. “We have a smith to visit and an appointment to keep.”

“What?” Bilbo felt quite lost. He had no idea why a high born dwarf like Master Balin was trying to get the hobbit to follow him.

“For Thorin,” Balin said, raising his eyebrows as if trying to part a secret message. “I was under the impression hobbits did not have weapon smiths.”

Hamfast gapped, looking wildly between Bilbo and Balin. “Why would Mister Baggins need a weapon?”

“Err,” Bilbo blushed. It was a hard situation to handle. He could tell Hamfast what he needed to weapon for or he could leave the hobbit to gossip about town asking others if they knew.

“His engagement of course!” Balin hollered, looking happy to spread the news.

The other hobbit starting to cough, eyes bugging out and falling over onto his rump. “What? M-Mister Baggins?”

“Sorry Gamgee,” Bilbo helped his friend and gardener up. “I’m not actually engaged yet, I just have a suitor.”

“A s-suitor,” Hamfast whispered, looking around for eavesdroppers. “Does Lobelia know of this?”

Cocking his head to the side, Bilbo frowned. “No, why?”

“She’ll be mighty mad that you’re stealing her thunder. She’s been so high and lofty being the center of attention because of her wedding, and if she’s finds out you’re engaged she’ll  be so angry! The shop keepers won’t be catering to only her needs now and she’ll think you’re stealing all the good wares.”

Bilbo waved him off. “Don’t be silly. I’m only being courted so there won’t be a wedding for a long time to plan. He’s a dwarf, Hamfast.”

“Oh,” the hobbit deflated. Balin watched them with an amused expression. “I guess dwarfs do things differently then?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said, patting Hamfast on the shoulder. “No worries. This will be a secret between you and me then?”

“Of course, of course,” Hamfast rushed to reassure him. “Is it that odd fellow that’s been coming by at all those odd times during the day and night?”

Balin laughed, “Thorin will be most upset to learn his sneaking has gone detected by the other hobbits.”

“He was _trying_ to be sneaky?” Hamfast asked, looking confused.

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo sighed. “Gamgee, I really must go with Master Balin now. We’ll talk later, I promise.”

“Of course,” Hamfast said. “I’ll finish up here, you go with the Master dwarf. Bad luck to be late to an appointment.”

Bilbo let Balin wait in his sitting room while he hurried to his bedroom to change. He didn’t know where they were going so he wore some semi-nice clothes, his favorite yellow vest and green jacket. Once everything was where it was suppose to be and Bilbo pocketed a purse full of coins, he met the old dwarf at the door.

“Um, thank you. I don’t know how you knew I’d need help with getting Thorin a courting sword, but I appreciate it.”

Balin patted him on the back. “No worries lad, I had my suspicions you’d be needing some help in this matter after a talk with my brother.”

Bilbo stared blankly at the dwarf.

“Dwalin,” Balin said. “He is my younger brother.”

He nodded even though Bilbo couldn’t quite see the resemblance much less the similarities in their temper.

Balin led the hobbit outside and down the road to Erebor, Hamfast watching them with a suspicious eye. “He said he saw no family heirloom while he was over.”

“Heirloom?”

“Yes. Us dwarves usually have a family heirloom, a weapon of some sorts, that is passed down generation to generation and if one accepts a suitors courting they give the weapon to their intended. It’s usually mounted over the fireplace. Dwalin said you only had needling stitching and a timepiece hanging there instead.”

“Oh,” Bilbo blinked, allowing himself to be herded towards the east entrance by the dwarf. “No, hobbits usually don’t have weapons of any kind. If it’s about family heirlooms I could give him my father’s cufflinks?”

Balin smothered a laugh. “I have no doubt the gift would be well received, but most dwarves have no use for cufflinks. Thorin would accept them grandly, only I doubt he’d know what they were for.”

Bilbo tried to imagine the dwarf with the white, airy blouses his father use to favor, tiny gold acorn cufflinks at the ends. After that he couldn’t help but picture Thorin in full hobbit regalia, calf-high trousers, blazer with vest, and maybe even a bright blue scarf to bring out his eyes. Bilbo ended up biting his lips trying not to giggle.

Balin seemed to catch on to his amusement and chuckled. “I do not say you shouldn’t give him the gifts, only that you might need to explain them to him. He’s stubborn and will not ask.”

“He is,” Bilbo said fondly. “May I ask how you know him?”

“I’ve known Thorin since he was born,” Balin said, glazing warmly forward as they headed deep into the mountain.

They walked down towards the mines and smithies, the air filled with smoke and the sound of metal hitting rocks. The dwarves around them were in the middle of working, hanging from scaffolds as they mined the veins of gold trailing down the side of the walls, or some dwarves were working transport, pushing carts filled with riches up towards the treasury. Bilbo tried not to gape at the jewels or rocks of gold as they passed, and Balin gave him an indulgent smile when Bilbo had to pause to stare at what had to be the largest diamond he’d ever seen being pushed up a trolley by five dwarves.

“Amazing isn’t it?”

“What,” Bilbo blinked, looking around before he ran to catch up with Balin. “Sorry, I’ve just never seen anything like that before. I heard Erebor was rich but I never knew how prosperous.”

“The Shire is not very far from Erebor, surely it is not a mystery how wealthy the mountain is?”

Bilbo shook his head. “No! I mean, we hobbits know that they mountain is very generous to all who dwell in and around it, but we usually are more preoccupied by who has more land to grow pipe-weed than who has more jewels or gold. They are pretty thing to dally with, but not practically to have an abundance of. We hobbits think too much access of riches will lead to enemies among friends and much unhappiness.”

Balin raised an eyebrow. “You do seem to being living quite well within your means?”

“My father made some good investments,” Bilbo said, blushing. “He was the first son of a wealthy clan and my mother the oldest daughter of an undoubtedly richer family. They inherited a lot so I do not actually have to support myself with a job, but it’s better that I do not spend my time idle.”

Bilbo didn’t like to talk much about money. Though he had a lot by hobbit standards, he was a gentle hobbit so it was expected. He just didn’t like to brag about how much he had like Lobielia did or flaunt it. It was tasteless and spoke of an unsavory character.

“A wise decision,” Balin said, pulling Bilbo towards a dark door where the sound of metal stuck metal and echoed down the hall. “Now, I know you know little of weapons, but is there maybe something you would like to request to be made?”

Bilbo flinched back when the door opened and a great heat poured out the entry. “I ha--I had thought, maybe a dagger?”

“A good choice.” Balin called one of the smiths to them, a large stout fellow with a singed beard in a black tunic and leather apron. The dwarf put his heavy belt of tools on the table with a loud bang and motioned them over.

“Master Balin, what can I do for you today?”

Balin cleared his throat and pushed the hobbit forward, Bilbo stumbled and almost fell head long into the other dwarf. “My friend here would like to commission a weapon and I told him you were the finest smith in all of Middle-Earth and he could ask for no one better.”

The smith’s ears turned red and Bilbo doubted it was from the heat. “Balin, you flirt.”

The older dwarf chuckled. “It’s true though, my mace hasn’t needed to be repaired in almost a hundred years now.”

The other dwarf puffed up with pride, his nose twitching in pleasure. “Well, I would make no shoddy work for a dwarf like yourself. So, you’re here about another commission?”

Bilbo straightened under the look the two dwarves gave him, cringing a bit at the noise going on around him. “Um, yes. Please.”

The smith’s smile fell some. “What would a hobbit like yourself need?”

Balin looked Bilbo over and he must have seen the panic rise in the hobbit’s eye’s and intervened, “Master Jari, he’s looking for a weapon to reward an intended.”

That got a laugh out of the dwarf and he eyed Bilbo with something like a leer. “Taking a dwarf husband is he? Little hobbit must have something special to draw the eye of one of us.”

Balin cleared his throat again, looking stern. “Jari, please. His intended is rather the jealous sort.”

“Do I know him? Might help me with an idea for the lad’s weapon.” The smith asked curiously, wiping a red stain off his counter with his apron. Bilbo gulped, pretty sure the red liquid had been blood.

“I’m sure you do,” Balin sighed. “But it’s to be a secret.”

Grumbling the other dwarf waved the two over to a desk, where paper and pen were ready. “Keep your secrets then. Tell me, what type of weapon are we wanting then: axe, pick, mace, sword?”

Bilbo took a hesitant seat across from Jari, Balin taking the chair beside him. “Um, maybe a dagger? Something small?”

“A dagger,” Jari said appalled. “The bigger the weapon the bigger the devotion, I always say.”  

“Now don’t be going and telling our hobbit lies, Jari,” Balin scolded, wagging a finger. “It’s the better craftsmanship not the size that matters.”

The two argued for a long while about size and whatnot, so Bilbo pulled a sheet of paper forward and snuck a pen from under Jari’s flailing arms. He started sketching, an idea he’d been mulling over since yesterday. While he wasn’t sure about the blades shape or sharpness, he did know about some handle designs after catching a glimpse of some in Dale.

“What’s this,” Jari tugged the paper out from under Bilbo’s fingers and held it to the light. “A bit flowery.”

“I like flowers,” Bilbo defended. Balin gave him an understanding nod, trying to peak at the sketch from over the smith’s shoulder.

Jari grunted, picking up a pen of his own and finishing the picture. “Maybe a full tang and a quillion to balance the blade.  We can add a large jewel at the pommel for decoration and maybe a braid pattern down the handle.”

“Or,” Balin cut in before Jari could draw over Bilbo’s designs. “We could make these flowers into jewels, that way we are still able to keep Mister Baggin’s design with a flourish of dwarven inclination.”

“The jewels would have to be tiny,” Jari grumbled.

“Yes, but I think it would add a subtle grace to it than just dropping large gemstones all about it.” Balin gave Bilbo a wink.

“I am a hobbit,” Bilbo squeaked, some daring returning to him. “We do like our flowers and such. I want the gift to be an equal mix of hobbit and dwarven. To remind my intended what awaits him if he ever has to leave for battle, so he’ll have a pleasant reminder in all that…destruction.”

That got Jari sniffling, his antipathy at Bilbo’s request cooling to a restrained partiality at the intended message Bilbo wanted to give Thorin with the weapon. Though the blade may be used to cut and kill, the handle was to temper and sooth the wearer’s rage. If by some horrible chance Thorin was called away to battle, Bilbo wanted him to have at least some type of valuable tool to remind the dwarf of his hobbit waiting for him back home. The flowers were forget-me-nots, or mouse-ears, tiny blue flowers that grew in clusters on the south end of Bag End. In the Shire it was supposed that the wearer of the flower would not be forgotten by their lover and Bilbo explained this to the two dwarves.  

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Jari said, dabbing at his eyes with his apron. “Reminds me of the old legend of Northri and Suthri.”

Bilbo gave Balin a clueless shrug. He’d have to ask Ori for the story later.

“Well, I guess the hobbit knows what he wants,” Jari sighed. “Any particular colors you want?”

“What are the options?” Bilbo leaned over the desk and they discussed what he wanted made. Bilbo let Balin work out the details of the actual blade, since he didn’t know much about them except for his kitchen knives. Jari recommended that the flowers be made from some semi-precious blue gems he had laying about and Bilbo asked if there was any way to make the rest white.

Jari almost gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned a look at the older dwarf. “He wants a handle made of marble?”

“Is there something wrong with a marble handle?” Bilbo asked, chewing on his lips. He felt hot and sweating sitting so long near the heat of the forges, his lips and mouth dry from thirst.

“It will stain brown with handling. I have a shipment of jade from some Khand merchants, most of the stone is a green color but there are a few that are paler. It is a hard stone and more able for handling, though it is rare this far north of Mordor.”

“Is it expensive?” Bilbo fumbled with his purse. He had brought a lot just in case, but with all this talk of jewels and rare jade he worried that he wouldn’t have enough if he had a lifetime to save.

“Don’t worry about price,” Balin suddenly said, patting Bilbo on the head. “Jari is reasonable.”

The smith gave Balin a queer look and the two broke out into hand signals, Jari’s expression getting more mulish by the minute.

“Fine,” the blacksmith spat. “Keep your secrets, but I will know who it is once I see my work upon their hip. This will be my finest creation, worthy of royalty!”

“I would hope so,” Balin said, smirking as he leaned back in his seat.

Jari’s jaw dropped. “No!”

Balin nodded, making another motion with his hands.

“Really?” the smith asked, looking at Bilbo with a gleam in his eye. “Well that changes things.”

“What?” Bilbo frowned, rather upset to be held back from the conversation by a secret hand-language. Were they talking about Thorin? Maybe Thorin was of some minor nobility and was justified the best quality of workmanship? It could be the reason why the dwarf was so reluctant to talk about his family. It made some sort of sense. Though Bilbo could not, for the life of him, figure out why Thorin was so hesitant to talk about it.

“Never you mind,” Balin said lightly.

Bilbo frowned, but told himself he’d deal with the questions later.

A price was worked out and Bilbo left with a purse very much lighter than what he arrived with. Jari gave them disbelieving glances as they left, Balin promising to check back in a few days to see the dagger’s progression. Bilbo thanked the dwarf, grateful just to be away from the scorching forges with his task done and over with. He was sure Thorin would be pleased, maybe even surprised by the design of the blade, for surely we wasn’t expecting Bilbo to have a dagger commissioned by the finest weapon-smith in Erebor. Balin praised Bilbo his originality of color and design.

“Forget-me-nots,” the old dwarf mused. “I know of these flowers.”

“You do?” Bilbo slipped his jacket and vest off since they were already soaked with sweat.

“They are small blue flowers that grow on the riverbank, do they not?”

Bilbo smiled, amazed that the dwarf was correct. Thorin could hardly distinguish between a flowering weed and a daisy. He’d about bruised the dwarf’s hand with his trowel when they’d been picking vegetables and Thorin had wandered towards the flower garden in the hopes of picking a few blossoms to decorate the table with.

“Yes. They are one of my favorites,” Bilbo said.

Balin hummed, leading Bilbo up a steep set of stairs until they came to an odd gallery of sorts. Fabrics and leathers hung on shelves all around the wall, many dwarves in thick wool milled about testing out the quality of the clothes displayed as workers rushed back and forth from the front rooms to the back.

It looked to be a tailor’s shop.

“Master Balin?” Bilbo blinked, confused to why they were here.

“I told you that you had an appointment to keep,” Balin said as a young dwarf spotted them and rushed forward to usher them into a back room, harried looking and frazzled by the crowd milling about. “You will need proper clothing for the festival.”

“B-but!” The young dwarf pushed Bilbo onto a stool and set about taking his measurements. “I can’t afford this too!”

“Nonsense,” Balin waved his concern off. “Thorin is paying for this.”

The tailor about inhaled the needles he had placed between his lips, freezing suddenly in his measuring of Bilbo’s inseam. Balin gave the young dwarf a wink before he went back to reassuring the hobbit.

“Thorin doesn’t need to pay for me to have new clothes tailored. Oh! And I wasn’t even invited to the Durin’s day festival.”

Balin laughed, “Of course you were.”

“No one asked,” Bilbo pouted, giving up on resisting the tailor and holding his arms out like he was instructed to. He’d done this many time with the tailor in the Shire, who was at least talkative and careful about his work. The dwarf lad was quick with his, but somewhat rough in his handling of customers. Bilbo wasn’t likely to recommend the experience to others unless the clothes turned out extremely pleasing.

The older dwarf sighed loudly. “He is not very good at remembering these things, but I promise you are invited.”

“Ugh, fine.” Bilbo would have slouched in defeat but the tailor took that moment to pinch the fabric under his rump. “Oi! Watch it!”

Bilbo surrendered to the ministrations of Balin and the tailor, knowing he would be seeing Thorin later today and planned to give _his_ dwarf a piece of his mind for all the rude things he’d been subjected to.  

 

****


	11. An Expected Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo have a date and plan for future ones also.

****

 

By the time Bilbo was able to get out of the tailor’s clutches and hobble back to the Shire, it was past noon and Thorin was already at Bag End sitting on a bench next to Hamfast smoking some pipe-weed. The two seemed to find great amusement in each other, laughing and blowing smoke into funny shapes as Hamfast’s wife Bell watched them from her garden.

“Bilbo!” The two yelled in unison, both giddy from pipe-weed and the lemon cakes Bell had supplied them.

“Hamfast, Thorin,” Bilbo raised an eyebrow at the two. He was quite amused to see Thorin so relaxed in his neighbor’s presence and that the Gamgee’s seemed to be charmed by the dwarf in return. He hadn’t thought he’d been gone too long for the two to get so use to each other’s company and strike up a friendship, Thorin didn’t seem the type to trust easily.

“They’ve been giggling like school boys for a while now Mister Baggins,” Bell answered the obvious question. It seemed that Thorin’s first introduction to the female hobbit hadn’t ruined her impression of him, for she smiled happily at her husband and the dwarf.  

“Have they?” Bilbo put his hands on his hips and tried to scowl at the two.

Hamfast elbowed Thorin and pointed at Bilbo with his pipe. “You going to give it to him now?”

Thorin smiled up at Bilbo, puffing lazily on his pipe. “Maybe. You just want to see his reaction.”

“Well,” Hamfast said. “Us hobbits like giving and getting gifts.”

“What are you two going on about?” Bilbo looked them both over, trying to figure out what they were in cahoots about.

“Show him,” Hamfast urged.

Thorin set his still burning pipe on the bench and reached behind him for a wooden box he’d hidden under his coat. It wasn’t a very big box, medium sized and rather plain looking with a brass lock. There was no way to know what was in it, except to open the lid.

“What’s this?” Bilbo took the box in hand, looking between it and Thorin’s expression. The dwarf looked giddy with excitement, about ready to jiggle out of his seat.

“Open and see,” Thorin urged.

Clicking the lock mechanism popped the top off, and inside the velvet lined interior of the box laid a shiny new trowel and hand rake. They were made of steel with cherry wood handles and had his name engraved in the sides.

“Oh…”Bilbo blinked, actually surprised. He was quite taken aback by the gift, he’d been expecting a weapon or some other dwarf tool as the first gift, and to actually receive something useful and uncomplicated that he could use in his daily life just stunned him. His old trowel was bent and he’d been reminding himself to get a new one, but kept forgetting.

“Do you not like it?” Thorin put a hand on his elbow, drawing Bilbo’s attention from the gift.

“N-no, I do!” Bilbo’s breath shuddered, “I-I love it. It’s a very thoughtful gift, and useful too.”

Thorin gave the hobbit a small smile, he didn’t look convinced that Bilbo really did like the present. Bilbo didn’t know what he had to do to encourage the dwarf, they were in front of guests and he was still somewhat shocked.

Hamfast cleared his throat, “See, I told you he’d like it Mister Thorin, sir. A nice pair of gardening tools like that, I’ve never seen a better courting gift. For a dwarf you’re very attentive to the ways of us hobbits, thinking of our gardens and such, instead of silly things like swords or jewelry.”

Bilbo gave his neighbor a thankful smile, happy someone was at least able to express what he was thinking. Bell peeked over his shoulder, ‘awing’ supportably about the design and beauty of the tools and how considerate Thorin was to find replacements for Bilbo’s old ones.

“I mean, I really do love them,” Bilbo said to Thorin, blushing at the congratulations he was receiving from the other two hobbits.

“I’m glad.” Thorin’s cheeks turned pink and he fidgeted. “I was worried at first, not knowing what to make a hobbit using steel, but then I remembered how the tools you had were old and broken that day you had me working for you in the garden.”

Bilbo pouted, “You make it sound like I forced you into the garden.”

“You did!” Thorin defended, smiling lightly when Hamfast and Bell laughed. “You wouldn’t let me eat unless I helped gather the vegetables.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Bilbo sniffed, shutting the box slowly. The tools were so pretty he almost didn’t want to use them, but what use would they be if he didn’t?

“Can you imagine the look on that Lobelia Bracegirdle’s face if she saw them,” Hamfast said, a gleam in his eyes. Bilbo’s neighbor has had a thing against the hobbit lass since they were tykes and Lobelia had pushed Hamfast into some pig manure on accident. They’d been playing tag. “Mister Thorin said they won’t ever rust. You’ll have to get me the name of the dwarf who made them, I might fancy having a few tools made for myself.”

Thorin puffed up with pride. “I made them actually. Took me awhile to get the metal shaped right, and no one else in the mountain knew how to make them. I had to visit someone in Dale to get their advice.”  

“Thorin…” Bilbo beamed up at the dwarf. “You made them yourself?” That knowledge about caused him to go weak in the knees, knowing that Thorin not only put so much thought into the gift but also a lot of work.

“Of course,” Thorin said. “At least one of the gifts should be made by hand. I even carved and sanded the wood myself.”

Bilbo bit his lips, resisting the urge to tug on Thorin’s beard and maybe kiss him. It was becoming a rather improper impulse every time the dwarf did something even relatively sweet. Who would’ve thought he’d become so love sick over a dwarf like Thorin. Oh, if his mother and father could see him now.

Bell was giving Bilbo a peculiar look, a twinkle in her eye like she knew of Bilbo’s itch to jump into Thorin’s arms and pepper his face with kisses. The female hobbit grabbed her husband’s sleeve and pulled him back before he could overwhelm Thorin with his questions about ordering a set of garden tools for himself.

“Come dear, we have laundry to do.”

“What? My Bell,” Hamfast pouted. “I thought you finished the washing?”

Bell gave Hamfast a stern glare and the hobbit slumped in defeat, following his wife out the gate and the short walk to their own hobbit hole. By the pitiful looks the rotund hobbit was giving Thorin, Bilbo would be hearing about the tools until Hamfast had a set of his own.

“Here, put your pipe out and I’ll meet you inside,” Bilbo said, tugging at Thorin’s cloak.

Thorin rushed to obey, quickly emptying the embers to the ground and wiping his shoes on the floor mat. Bilbo left the door open for the dwarf, walking into the sitting room and displaying the box with its contents on the middle table for everybody to see.

By the time Bilbo was in the kitchen pulling out the ingredients for supper, Thorin had his heavy cloak off and was barefoot. The dwarf stomped into the dining room with a huge smirk.

“You displayed them.”

“Of course I did,” Bilbo said, cutting some potatoes. “They are an exceptional gift. There’s no other item I would want but them.”

“I’m pleased,” Thorin moved up behind the hobbit and put his arms around Bilbo’s middle, his nose burying in blond curls. “You always please me, even when you are mean to me, and I like to return the favor.”

Bilbo busted out laughing, having to set his knife down so he could wiggle around to face the dwarf. “I’m never mean to you.”

“You are mean all the time. Bossy too.”

Bilbo pinched Thorin in the side. “I’m only bossy because you’re pig headed.”

Thorin scoffed, hands moving down Bilbo’s spine to settle at his hips. “You, Mister Baggins, cast aspersions on my character. I think I deserve a gift of my own for all the hard work I’ve put into yours.”

Knowing what the dwarf was really asking for and in such a teasing mood, Bilbo smirked. He leaned forward, as if to kiss Thorin and when the dwarf’s eyes were closed and his arms loosened around the hobbit, Bilbo snuck out from under them and tiptoed to his bedroom.

It took a few moments for Thorin to notice and when he finally blinked his eyes’ open, Bilbo was gone and only a paring knife and potato were there to see him sputter. “Bilbo?”

“Hold on!” Bilbo quickly dug around in his drawers looking for the gift. He’d left the comb in his pockets and the oil and stone on his dresser. Thorin peeked around the door and caught him bent over looking under his bed for the jacket he wore the other day.

“What are you doing?” Thorin sounded bewildered and a little bit amused, but he wandered no farther than the doorway into the room.

“I’m looking for your gift. Aha!” Bilbo sat up, hair wild and cheeks flushed as he sported the comb in hand.

Thorin watched, a curious furrow in his brow. “I was only teasing about the gift. You are not expected to get me anything.”

“I wanted to,” Bilbo reassured him, standing. It was very dusty under his bed and he’d have to find some time later in the week to do some cleaning. He’d left things around the house to neglect as of late.

Gather the other two items, Bilbo pushed past Thorin and down the hall towards the dining room. He hadn’t thought to actually wrap the gifts, as was customary for hobbits. Not that Bilbo thought Thorin would mind.

“Sit first,” Bilbo ordered, pressing Thorin into his usual chair at the head of the table. The dwarf’s large bulk dominated the small room, and Bilbo felt tiny compared to Thorin even sitting down. Or it could have been his nerves getting the better of him.

Thorin looked amused, glancing up at Bilbo with a pleased smile. Before his anxiety could get the better of him, Bilbo dropped all three items down in front of the dwarf. “Here, I found them in the market the yesterday day and thought of you. I wasn’t sure what to get you originally but I figured every dwarf could do with something to clean his weapons with.”

The dwarf slowly picked up the plain rock and examined it, facial expression blank. “Yes, that is true.”

Bilbo tucked his hands behind his back, afraid that his nerves would cause him to snatch the gifts back and call out that it was all a mistake. He was unsure if Thorin was pleased with the items or not, and surely Bilbo could have gotten something better.

“I-I know it’s not much,” Bilbo whispered, something like a heavy stone settling in his stomach. “And I don’t know much about weapons, so if they are the wrong type I can always get something else.”

Thorin picked up the oil and uncapped it, sniffing the open top. “Smell like the right kind. It is a very thoughtful gift and I am pleased you went out of your way to research the correct type I would need.” Thorin smiled up at Bilbo and the hobbit about sagged in relief. Placing the two objects in his hands to the side, Thorin picked up the comb and turned about as red as a tomato.

“Very bold of you Mister Baggins,” Thorin smirked, ears and cheeks flushed.

Bilbo blinked, taking a seat beside Thorin as his legs felt like they were going to wobble right off. “What? It’s just a comb.”

“A comb, he says,” Thorin scoffed, fingering the teeth. “Do you know why Dwarves take such care of their beards?”

“Not really,” Bilbo shrugged.

“We take great pride in the length and thickness of our beards. It is a sign of status and aged wisdom to have a long and thick beard. Only when a dwarf becomes of age do the first stubble grow and he does not cut it, only in grievance and great shame, and you can tell alot about a dwarf by how he treats his beard and how well it’s cared for.”

“Oh, okay.” Bilbo nodded, it made some sense. He knew Kili and Gimli barely had a beard, but they both weren’t very old by dwarf standards. Thorin himself had a well groomed beard he always had plated in a braid with tiny gold beads and his usual large bead at the end. Hobbits never grew beards, maybe a bit of a side burn if they were extraordinarily hairy, but their chins were bare as the day they were born.

Thorin cleared his throat, setting the comb gently down on the table. “You have to understand, most things that have to do with our beards are very personal. Giving me a comb or facial hair ornamentation is almost like me giving you… under-things.”

Bilbo groaned and hid his face in his hands, blushing something terrible. “Oh Eru!”

Thorin laughed though, sounding pleased at Bilbo’s embarrassment. “It’s not that I mind, though it’s not usually a courting gift. After we have wed it would be something common to give each other. I will have you a comb made of gold for you as a wedding gift and decorate your hair with gemstone baubles.”   

Drawing his hands down his face, Bilbo gaped. “You just told me I’ve given you the equivalent of under-things. Wait! You gave me a hair bead when we first met!” Bilbo pointed at Thorin, chest puffing as he gasped for breath. He was so embarrassed, if anyone found out how improper Bilbo was being he would be chased out of the Shire in shame.

The dwarf chewed on his lips, looking up towards the ceiling. “That’s different, it was a thing of honor. I owed you a debt and had no money on my person. The bead was from my hair, not my beard, so there is different meaning.”

Bilbo huffed, “This is all so confusing. To hobbits hair is hair.”

Leaning back in the chair, Thorin looked Bilbo up and down. “So you say, but is the hair on your feet the same as the hair on your head?”

Bilbo’s mouth closed with a click and he shook his head. That was a subject hard for any hobbit to explain to another race, their feet were very important to them so any damage or malformation was a dreadful thing to happen to them. They didn’t have shoes like the others and to be considered soft footed was a grave insult, and the only time one shaved the hair off a foot was if there was injury, but there was no stigma against cutting the hair on one’s head.  

“I see you may have a point,” Bilbo muttered, looking anywhere but at the smirking dwarf. “Give me the comb back and I will find you something else to gift you with for now.”

Thorin swiped the comb back up and hid it in a pocket on the inside of his tunic. “No. It is mine now.”

“B-but, it is improper!” Bilbo stood and leaned towards Thorin, wondering if he would be able to rustle through the dwarf’s clothing without touching anything indecent.

“So,” Thorin drawled, smirking so cockily Bilbo wanted to pull on his braids. Bilbo threw up his hands in defeat and wandered back into the kitchen to finish cooking.  

After he finished with the potatoes and other vegetables, Bilbo pulled out a large cut of roast he’d had marinating since this morning. He put the meat and vegetables in a pot and into the oven under Thorin’s watchful eyes, a pleased smile on the dwarf’s face anytime Bilbo looked over at him.

“Why is it that every meal you make smells so good?” The dwarf’s nose was in the air like a bloodhound seeking out a scent.

Bilbo swatted at Thorin’s side with a hand towel. “You could help, you know.”

“I don’t know how to cook and I would not like to spoil the meal in my attempts,” Thorin reminded him, crossing his arms. Bilbo still looked back on that day in the garden and kitchen with fond amusement.

“Yes, I know.” Bilbo still puts a bowl of pea pods in front of the dwarf guard. “Shell these for me, please.”  

Thorin grumbled but he did as asked. Bilbo went back to his turnips, slicing them for his casserole. They worked quietly for a long while, Thorin humming a tune under his breath as Bilbo replaced one vegetable in front of him for another to shuck. By the time everything was done and set on the table, Bilbo was worn-out and ready to eat.

“If you agree to our marriage, I must say I would be getting the better deal,” Thorin said, passing a napkin over to the hobbit. “I cannot produce a meal for you a meal as fine as this and you do it every day.”

Sipping at his tea, Bilbo gave Thorin a wan smile. He knew Thorin liked to talk about their future marriage like it was a foregone conclusion, but one never knew what could happen. It seemed like bad luck to assume that everything would go Thorin’s way. Bilbo kept quiet though about his assumption, not wanting to ruin Thorin’s good cheer on a day like today.

“I’m glad you like it,” Bilbo said through a mouthful of roast and potatoes. “The kitchens said my meals were lacking something and only hired me for my dessert skills. I don’t mind, but it did bruise my ego a bit.”

Thorin frowned, cheeks puffed out and full of food. He swallowed first before saying, “I did not know this. I find your meals very satisfactory and I’m not sorry I do not have to share your attempts. I’m a jealous dwarf though.”

Bilbo hid a smile behind his napkin. “Well, thank you Thorin. I appreciate it.”

“If you want,” Thorin paused, “I can talk to someone, if you really do want the position.”

Setting his utensils down carefully, Bilbo turned his whole attention to the dwarf. “Thorin, I would be grateful for it if you let me attempt things at my own merit. I do not need you stepping in to deal with this matter, it is my own and I can handle it. If my cooking is not considered good enough to the other dwarves than it is only good enough for you and I. I don’t mind.”

“But--”

Bilbo cut Thorin off, “And what would you do anyways? You shouldn’t be able to demand they promote me, you don’t have that kind of power.”

Thorin frown mulishly and set his own silverware down, his plate half finished.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said gently. “I know you said you were waiting to tell me about your family. I think I might know some of it. Please,” Bilbo rushed when Thorin started to look alarmed. “I heard some things and even though everyone seems to keep it a secret, they are somewhat bad at it.”

“W-what do you mean?” Bilbo had never seen Thorin so wide-eyed and shaken before, he looked like any moment he might bolt out the door. “You are not angry?”

“I--not really,” Bilbo sighed. “I figured in some way you were a noble, maybe through blood or marriage. You certainly don’t act like it, well, maybe a little. You are stubborn and a bit naive about everyday things, sure. I just don’t understand why you’d be so shy about telling me, it matters not to me. As a Gentlehobbit , I can kind of understand. We’re warned not to let a pitiable lass trick us into marriage, for once a Brandybuck married a wretched hobbit from Lake-town and she poisoned him on their wedding night and ran off with all his wealth and holdings.”

“O-oh,” Thorin said stunned, most likely shocked by Bilbo’s perceptiveness of the situation. “You know I am of noble blood then?”

Bilbo paused halfway to picking up his fork. “Well, I don’t know how noble. How close are you related to Prince Fili and Kili? I imagine they would have to trust you greatly to put their lives in your hand.”

Thorin frowned, looking down and rubbing his forehead. “I do not like to say, but you should assume we are very closely related.”

Which could mean anything from fourth cousins to brothers in hobbit terms. Maybe the mountain wasn’t all that different from the Shire, with everybody being related to one another some way or another and there being some confusion when marriages happened.

“Do you share the same father?” Bilbo almost choked at the thought. Thorin a Prince! Surely his dwarf would have mentioned something _that important_ in their acquaintance. There was a likeness now though that he noticed, something in the jaw and shape of the nose. While Thorin and Kili had somewhat the same coloring, the resemblance between Thorin and Fili was a bit uncanny if the Prince wasn’t so soft in the cheeks.

“No!” Thorin gave a small chuckle, “Their father is a fool and hardly an adequate warrior. Even though he has married into the noble line of Durin he still assumes he has no worries to attend court, and wishes only to train in shooting his arrows and carousing with his men.”

“That doesn’t sound bad,” Bilbo said, a tightened knot in his chest loosening. “I think it sounds rather excellent. At least the queen knows he didn’t marry her for the position.”

Thorin did a spit take, coughing heavily from his cup of wine. “What? You think Heptifili is King!”

“Isn’t he?” Bilbo said around a mouth full of buttered peas. He hadn’t known the dwarf’s name but he figured it was the Princes’ father by how alike it sounded. Dwarves were known for naming their children with some part of their own in the forename. “If Master Fili and Kili are the Princes and their mother the queen, than wouldn’t that make their father the King?”

“Mahal’s beard, no!” Thorin didn’t look at all pleased by Bilbo’s estimation. “Their uncle is King, or will be soon, and the Princes are heirs because he has no children of his own. The crown skips the Royal Princess and passes to her sons.”

Bilbo shrugged, “Oh, well. I guess that makes sense, a little. Though I don’t know why she shouldn’t inherit the throne if she’s still of royal blood. Is it just because she is female?”  

Thorin tore into a bread roll, getting crumbs everywhere. “Mistress Dis would be happy to hear you say that. She thinks the men of Durin’s line are idiots and halfwits. You two would probably get along.”

Laughing, Bilbo nudged the dwarf’s bare feet with his own. The light dusting of hair on Thorin’s foot was nothing like a hobbit’s, but it wasn’t displeasing. What Thorin lacked in hair on his feet, he more than made up for on his chin. “I doubt we would have much in common, she is a Princess. I admit the two young Princes are not a bad sort, a little too harried to be around after a while, but they are good to the common folk.”

Humming in agreement, Thorin went back to shoveling food down his throat. “That they are.”

“I still think it’s odd that you were scared to tell me,” Bilbo shrugged. “I don’t know what you thought my reaction would be.”

“I had feared,” Thorin paused to wipe his mouth with a napkin. At least he seemed to be picking up manners. “You would treat me different. Some do, around the mountain, because I have a title. I would rather be known for my character than by the position I was born into.”

“That’s silly, I’m a hobbit. What on earth does your _title_ have to do with me?” Bilbo waved his spoon around, indicating the room around them. “Though I won’t say we dismiss a position one is born in into their family here in the Shire, it’s a matter of inheritance you see, but we are rather big on the nature of the hobbit. Take Hamfast Gamgee, he’s rather low-born by some standards, but he’s a good sort and a hard worker, so he has some standing in the community. He might not be lucky to inherit a fortune from his family, but he is a hobbit of outstanding quality and I dare say he is much admired for it.”

“That’s different though. Those who come from the bottom can work their way up. What of those who are already at the top, where are they to go but down?”

“Oh pish,” Bilbo snorted. “If you are at the top there is no limit that keeps you from going farther up.”

“Are you saying I should just try for the stars,” Thorin teased.

“Like the mountain reaches for the sky,” Bilbo nodded. “And if one is at the top, he is never looked down at for helping those under him reach the same heights he has.”

“You are very sage-like today, Mister Baggins.” Thorin leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

“Nonsense, I am just in a good mood.” Bilbo’s ankle slid next to Thorin’s under the table. If Master Pumpernickel was around, Bilbo would be somewhat scared for his soft flesh and the cat’s sharp claws meeting, but last he saw of the creature he’d wandered down the road towards the marshes where the last of the summer birds were roosting until the beginning of winter. There wouldn’t be any eggs but the fledglings wouldn’t be strong enough yet to fly away.

“Oh, and is this good mood because of me?”

Bilbo laughed. “It shouldn’t be, I was rather cross with you earlier. My silly dwarf, what were you thinking making me an appointment to see a tailor without telling me?”

“Ah, I forgot to mention that yesterday.” Thorin looked unrepentant, licking his silverware indecently with a smirk. “I am having a dwarven outfit fashioned for you to wear at the Durin’s day festival. My…friends and I were discussing it and we all agreed that you probably didn’t have a proper set of your own. Hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle, they always poke me with their needles and say it’s an accident.”

“And I bet it was,” Bilbo said, in a tone meaning he understood if it wasn’t. Really, is it too much trouble to ask Bilbo of his thoughts about these types of things? “I’m sure it will be a lovely outfit, only I was never invited to a festival so I don’t know when I would wear it.”

“Of course you are invited!” Thorin bellowed, looking bewildered and angry. “If you are not--you have to be there!”   

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, looking up at Thorin through the bangs of his hair. “Oh really? What if I am already busy? I have many things to do for the party the Shire is throwing and maybe my schedule is already taken up. You should have asked me a while ago if I wanted to go.”

Thorin looked like he was about to choke on air. “I-I hadn’t, I mean, you can’t--please, I have already prepared--!”

Setting his silverware down and leaning back, Bilbo crossed his arm and enjoyed the moment of getting one over on Thorin. It was a rather pleasing feeling, letting the dwarf stew in his own blunder for once instead of relieving him of his panic. Thorin sputtered and flailed his arms around, words in Khuzdul and Westron mixing into intangible sentences.

Deciding to grant the dwarf mercy so he didn’t explode in a jumble of frustration, Bilbo cut Thorin off. “Lucky for you though, Master Balin informed me I was invited and I just happen to have no appointments or errands to run the main day of the festivities. I’d be happy to go. If you ask.”

“You just said you were going,” Thorin growled, glowering at Bilbo. He didn’t seem too happy that Bilbo had let him fret so foolishly like that.

“I can always go with Master Balin, since he was kind enough to ask,” Bilbo said smugly back.

Thorin looked about ready to upend the table, but he grit his teeth together and growled out, “Please. Will. You. Go. To. The. Durin’s. Day. Festival. With. Me.”

Bilbo clapped his hands together. “So kind of you to ask, I would be delighted to go with you Master Thorin!”

Rolling his eyes, Thorin got to his feet to distribute the dessert. He muttered unkind things about Bilbo’s upbringing under his breath, but the hobbit paid no mind. Giggling to himself when Thorin placed the plate of bread pudding in overstated gentleness before Bilbo.

“Eat my liege, and may you grow as round as you are short,” Thorin grumbled sarcastically.

Bilbo glared good-naturedly back, digging into his dessert with much gusto. Thorin seemed hesitant to try his own piece, but after a few bites didn’t seem to have any problems. Bilbo would call today all-in-all a successful day. Very enjoyable.

They retired to the sitting room for a smoke after dessert, just to let their stomach’s rest. Full with good food and good company, they sat peacefully without talking together for a long while staring into the fire. The gifts from Thorin set where the fire shined on them perfectly that they glowed gold. In fact Bilbo might have fallen asleep sitting there if Master Pumpernickel’s return didn’t cause such a racket.

“I see your minder is back,” Thorin said, leaning back to watch Bilbo let the cat inside. “It was a pleasant evening without him. Whatever you did to get him out of the house Bilbo, you must do again.”

Master Pumpernickel looked most displease to see Thorin there, nose twitching and glaring at the dwarf like he was a warg charging at him in battle.    

“Enough, Thorin. Be nice to my houseguest.” Bilbo went into the kitchen to set some leftovers out for the cat, though by the feathers clinging to his fur Master Pumpernickel had most likely been successful in his hunting.

By the time Bilbo returned to the hallway, Thorin was already in his shoes and in the process of clipping his cloak back on. His gifts that Bilbo had given him tucked away in his pockets.

“You have to leave?”

The dwarf nodded, shaking out the silver embroidered cuffs of his surcoat. “If the beast is back then I know I should leave, we won’t get a moment of peace with him here. I only wish I could spend more time in your company.”

Bilbo leaned against the wall, kicking a foot out against the hat stand. “When will I see you next?”

Thorin shrugged, “I am unsure, if not tomorrow then the next. I have the next gift ready so I see little point in wasting time not giving it to you.”

“And now I know more about you so I might be able to shop for something more useful,” Bilbo said, smiling up at Thorin as he moved closer.

The dwarf’s hands settled on Bilbo’s hips. “I already said you do not have to get me anything.”

“I want to,” Bilbo replied simply, clutching at the lapels of Thorin’s shirt to pull him down for a quick kiss.

Thorin pulled slowly back, licking his lips like he was chasing the taste of Bilbo. “You make leaving harder and harder each time I see you. Before long you will have me prisoner here in your hobbit hole by means of your affection alone, the other dwarves will tease me at how weak I have gotten.”

"What gobbledygook,” Bilbo puffed. “You are no more prisoner than I am a jailer.”

Thorin laughed, hands tightening on Bilbo’s side before he took a step back. “Farewell my hobbit and may the mountain protect your dreams from evil’s gaze.”

Bilbo nodded, letting Thorin slip out the door with one last glance.

***

Thorin is not able to get away from his duties to visit the final day of Bilbo’s break, but he did send a letter by raven detailing how much he missed Bilbo and wishes he was with the hobbit instead of being surrounded by bothersome dwarves. Besides complaints about Fili and Kili, there is a little poetry, which Bilbo will have to talk to Thorin about how to some hobbits being compared to a rock is less than flattering , but it is the thought that counts. Bilbo’s so taken by Thorin’s calligraphy though that he folds the letter up neatly and hides it in his bedside drawer instead of his desk. If only so he could take it out later at night to trace the lettering and re-read the lovers poem.

Bilbo spend his day off trying out his new gardening tools, showing them off to all who pass by Bag End and keeping secret who made them. It’s not a bad day, a bit lonely, so Bilbo sticks to chores outside and fielding growing inquires from Hamfast about Thorin.

So it’s somewhat of a surprise to head to work the next day and walk into madness.

He’d just gotten into the kitchens when Bilbo noticed the odd looks he’s getting from the other staff. Flor even stopped her usual glaring to watch Bilbo with a strange squint to her eyes, her arms full of dirty buckets and muttering in Khuzdul under her breath.

Bombur appeared at his side and pulled Bilbo away from the gawkers. “Ignore them, there’s an odd rumor going round about a hobbit and they think it’s ya.”

“What kind of rumor?”

The fat dwarf waved his soup ladle around. “Some hobbit’s having a courting sword commissioned for some noble dwarf. Everybody’s up in a chatter about it. Master Jari’s been bragging about it to anyone he’s come across at mealtime.”

“Oh,” Bilbo breathed, no longer surprised to hear that others knew of his and Thorin’s courting. He guessed he shouldn’t have counted on others to keep it secret if they weren’t asked to. Just as long as the news didn’t get to the Shire and by that, to Lobelia. “Yes, that’s me.”

“What!” Bombur spun Bilbo around until they were pressed nose to nose, grinning merrily at the hobbit. “Ya courting a dwarf Mister Baggins!”

Bilbo gets his hands twisted in the dwarf’s beard when he tried to push away and had to concede to Bombur’s manhandling until he could gently disentangle from the red facial hair. “W-well, I guess it’s not really a secret if everybody knows now. But yes, I’m being courted and I thought it was prudent to get a blade made in the event I accepted his proposal.”

“Oh congratulations!” Bombur patted Bilbo so hard on the shoulder they started to ache. “A blessing indeed!”

“Thank you,” Bilbo sighed, finally tugging his hand free. “We wanted to keep it a secret until my clan knew, but I guess there’s no harm in you knowing now.”

“Well there’s your first mistake. Master Jari’s a right old gossip and he’s always keen on a lovers tale. He’s singing songs about the blade he’s crafting and the two lovers he’s making it for all up and down the halls,” Bombur laughed, pulling Bilbo away from the eager ears listening in. He shooed a helper out of the pantry until it was just the two of them. “I’ll keep the news to myself if ya want? Let the others guess for a while until your family knows.”

“That would be most helpful,” Bilbo said, thankful he’d have at least one ally fending off bothersome questions and suspicious glancing. It would inhibit his working if he was busy answering everybody’s inquiry about his courting and whatnot.

“Ya don’t mind me asking, but who’s the lucky dwarf?”

“Oh, Thorin Oakenshield. He’s been so sweet and--”

“T-Thorin Oak-Oakenshield!” Bombur’s face paled until he was as white as marble stone, stumbling back from Bilbo like he’d suddenly turned into an elf. “Oh Mahal, oh Mahal…”

“What?” Bilbo watched taken aback as Bombur whirled around and about sprinted out the kitchen doors with wary a glance, the others for once not staring at the hobbit as the round dwarf ran like he was a hundred pounds lighter and with a pack of wargs on his heel.

Master Flar walked into the stunned room not a minute later and yelled at everybody to get to work.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Fili and Kili’s father’s name came from the poem Tolkien used to name his dwarves. I’ve been using it pretty much for all the dwarf OC that pop into my fic. Heptifili has the name ‘Fili’ in it and following most of the dwarves tradition in regards to names, it sort of fit. He might actually make an appearance, who knows!  
> The whole thing about the mountain protecting from evil’s gaze doesn’t mean Sauron, I think it would mean something against the elves and their power to dream walk. Or the dwarves thinking they do. It’s made up and I’m not very good at coming up with things like that.  
> Lol, combs are the equivalent of dwarf lingerie if you couldn’t guess!


	12. Puzzling Warnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur warns Bilbo to be suspicious of Thorin. There is also the second courting gift.

****

 

Since most of the dwarves were gossiping about Bombur’s odd behavior they mostly left Bilbo alone to his work. Though a few stopped to give the hobbit a queer look every now and then, Master Flar chased them away with his whisk if they dawdled around too long.

“So odd!” Flar smiled as he watched the newest batch of helpers scatter away. As kind as the dwarf was he didn’t take lollygagging as a serious use of one’s time. “You’d think they’ve never seen a hobbit before.”

“No,” Bilbo said slowly. It would probably be best to let Master Flar figure the situation out on his own. “I think they are all just occupied with other thoughts.”

“Quite right, quite right,” Flar said, mixing a bowl of spices for his special ginger cake. “The festival is soon. Seven days away, and I’ll be kicking back for once while the others cook my food for a change.”

Bilbo laughed, passing a jar of cinnamon to the older dwarf. “So the cooking is left to the apprentices? If so, why do I have off?”

“No, well, sort of! Foods prepared mostly before the celebrations, and the elves and men of Dale provide meals on certain days as tribute. There is a big hunt every evening in Mirkwood and the warriors of each race show off by blooding and skinning the animals before we roast them over a pit.” Flar licked his lips, like he was remembering the taste of banquets past. “All the masters have off and their protégé’s are to serve them to show off their skills. Not just the cooks, the smiths and scribes too.”

“I see,” Bilbo said thickly. He didn’t like to think of dwarves, men, and elves hunting the wilds for beasts and then butchering them for dinner. It sounded so barbaric. He hoped Thorin could be excluded from this chase, if only so he could tell Bilbo when to look away and distract him from the unseemly moments of the festival. “I still don’t understand why I’m not working?”

“You’re new,” Flar scoffed. “And a hobbit. Your folk are too kindly to enjoy our festivities, a bit like high elves. I’ll say something about them Mirkwood grass-eaters, they at least like to enjoy a good mêlée and they don’t skimp on getting a bit blood-splattered to have a fun time.”

Bilbo groaned. He wished he’d known what the dwarf’s version of Durin’s day entitled before he agreed to go. Now he was worried the outfit Thorin was having made was leather and chainmail of sorts. “Well, I’ll be there anyways. I’ve been invited by a dwarf to attend.”

“Oh!” Flar paused in his work to smile joyfully at the hobbit. “Oh, ho ho ho! I knew I made a good decision hiring you. I told myself, Flar son of Flavo, there’s a hobbit worth welcoming to the mountain. He left his little hill for bigger and better things! Knows of the superiority of us dwarves and wants to throw his lot in with us. Good decision I say!”

Rolling his eyes, Bilbo knew he was being teased. “So you say, but you shouldn’t dismiss us Shire-folk so easily. We might surprise you.”

Master Flar gave Bilbo a searching look, and whatever he saw must have pleased him. “I think you already have, my boy.”

Bilbo felt his cheeks pinken and he quickly ducked his head. The two worked for a while after that on the desserts, talking about the harvest and what types of vegetables were usually in season during winter as the oven filled with sweet pastries and fluffy cakes.

Miss Loni, who’d just finished pitting seeds from a batch of cherries, wiped her hands on her apron and sidled over to Bilbo and Master Flar. The older dwarf tried to fix his beard, tucking it into his belt after he cleaned some sweet sauce off the white hairs. Loni was known to be considered quite beautiful by dwarf standards with her auburn braids, thick whiskers, and dark skin. She always wore a maroon skirt with ruby ornaments, her makeup subtle except for the bright red lipstick. She’d been kind to Bilbo when they were first introduced and they worked well together when asked, but she hadn’t gone out of her way to befriend him either.

“Mister Bilbo,” the female dwarf said, “I’ve heard some interesting things about you.”

“Oh?” Bilbo paused in his work, corking the blueberry drizzle he’d been working over a pan of cheesecake just out of the oven. He had an idea to what the dwarf was alluding towards, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it with someone he wouldn’t consider a friend.

“They say you asked for the King’s hand in marriage,” Loni said, flipping her braided ponytail behind her back.

Master Flar instant starting choking and Bilbo rushed to help him.

“Miss Loni! Wherever did you hear that rumor? I’ve never heard such falsehood in my life!”

The other dwarf shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by Flar’s distress and Bilbo’s exasperation at the whole subject. She ran a finger down the edge of the pie pan, sucking the blueberry sauce off her finger lewdly. “Mmm, so you say. But my _friend_ down in the forges said you have Master Jari commissioning a sword for you… as a _courting weapon_.”

Master Flar waved Bilbo off and ambled off to the washing room to clear his throat somewhere not over the desserts. Bilbo fretted for a moment, worried to make sure his master was okay and not wanting to talk to Loni about his courtship with Thorin.

“And what makes you think it’s me they were talking about?” Bilbo turned and put a hand on his hip.  

Loni looked the hobbit up and down, smirking when she caught sight of Bilbo’s trembling hand. “Well, she told me it was a short fellow, with gold hair and sapphire colored eyes. Now I’d think it could be anybody but she specifically said the fellow was a hobbit and his dress was sort of curious. Most hobbits in the mountain dress like dwarves from what I’ve seen. Except you.”

“Um,” Bilbo stuttered. Not sure if he should lie, deny, or just cave in to her inquires.

“She also said this hobbit was very pretty and being escorted by Master Balin.”

Bilbo groaned and Loni smiled in triumph. “Fine, but I won’t believe these exaggerations. About me or that I’m courting the King, of all people.”

“But, Master Balin--”

“Is just a family friend of the dwarf _who is_ courting _me_. A noble, but no one _that noble_.”

Loni pushed closer, tugging at Bilbo’s sleeves. “Are you certain?”

“Of course!” Bilbo yanked his arm away, and then he saw the hurt look the dwarf gave him and tried to sooth her. “I’m just a hobbit. There would be no reason for a King, of all dwarves, to court me. I mean, that’s just a silly idea. Where on Middle-Earth would I even meet the fellow?”

Laughing, Loni covered her mouth with her painted fingernails. “No, I guess you’re right. It does sound silly now that you say it.”

Bilbo snorted, “Yes. My dwarf is a noble fellow, but he doesn’t quite have the bearing to be a King. Did you know I threw an apple at his head on our first meeting and then I thought him a halfwit? He was very cross with me when he found out and then had to apologize for making a fool of himself when he stormed my hobbit hole wanting an explanation.”

Loni about tumbled over laughing and the others around them stopped to gape at the beautiful lass giggling like a child. Bilbo felt rather pleased with himself, until he saw Bofur at the door making motions for him to join him out in the halls, frantic and sweating in a panic.

“Sorry Miss Loni, I’m being called. We’ll talk later?”

“Yes,” Loni patted Bilbo’s cheek, smiling sweetly. “We’ll talk later. I’d like to hear more of this dwarf who thrust himself into your _hobbit hole_.”

Blushing, Bilbo retreated from the kitchens to the hallway where Bofur grabbed his arms roughly and hurriedly led him to a less used hallways away from the busy kitchens. Bilbo stumbled over his feet, trying to pull back, puzzled by the actions of the dwarf. When they seemed far enough away from the others, Bofur drag them to a stop and pushing Bilbo against the wall. Bilbo had hardly a chance to open his mouth to question his friend’s behavior when he was cut off.

“It’s true then!”

Bilbo was pulled forward until he was nose-to-nose with the miner, the dwarf’s hand practically digging into his wrist so hard they were probably already bruised. Not only that, but Bilbo had worn his favorite brass cufflinks today and the ends were digging so hard into his flesh they had most likely broken skin by now. “What? And please stop, you’re hurting me.”

“Sorry!” The dwarf pulled back, looking only a bit contrite at his shoving. “Bombur told me,” Bofur said, whipping his hat off and twisting it in his hands. “About your… engagement.”

“Um,” Bilbo stuttered, holding one wrist where the pain hadn’t dulled yet. He spotted a bit of blood on his cuff and quickly flipped his hand to hide the evidence before Bofur caught sight. “I’m not really engaged q-quite yet. We’re just courting.”

“You’re courting Thorin though! Thorin Oakenshield!” Bofur threw his hands up in the hair, hat hitting the ceiling. Bofur looked wild, hair sticking up every which way, eyes wide, and face flushed. The hobbit took a step back in fright, unsure what was wrong with his friend.

Bilbo bit his lips in confusion. “S-so?”

“Ya don’t know, he’s lying,” Bofur shouted, panting heavily like he’s just run from Dale. “Ya can’t trust him!”

All the accusations and gawking was finally getting to him, and Bilbo felt himself bristle at the claim being thrown at him about Thorin. He’d thought Bofur was his friend and now the dwarf was yanking him into deserted hallways and accusing Thorin of things he hadn’t done. “Why, how dare you!”

“No, Bilbo,” Bofur pleaded, looking shamefaced. “Please, he’s ordered us all not to tell ya. I didn’t think it was ya at first, just some other hobbit until Bombur said something. But he ain’t ordering me on this. I consider us friends, and after that whole joke with the princes I can’t stand by and let him--”

“Bofur stop!” Nori rounded the corner just then and plowed into the miner. There was a scuffle, and Bilbo had to jump out of the way or have his feet rolled over by the two. Bilbo was frantic, not knowing what to do or why the two were fighting in the first place. He caught sight of Bofur biting down on Nori’s wrist and the dwarf retaliating by kneeing Bofur somewhere unsportsmanlike. There was hollering and yelling in Khuzdul and they tussled down the hallway into the more well-walked area.

“What’s this then?” Dwalin sauntered calmly towards them, probably drawn by the noise of the fight. Behind the dwarf, Prince Fili and Kili followed looking amused by the fight until they caught sight of Bilbo rubbing his sore wrists.

“Mister Baggins!” They shouted in unison. The guard waved them towards the hobbit while he pulled Bofur and Nori apart. Dwalin shook the two like they were rowdy pups, smirking at Nori in delight until he caught sight of Bofur. Whatever exchange they had after that, Bilbo would never know, because the hobbit was swarmed by the two princes who enfolded the hobbit between them.

“Mister Baggins,” Kili repeated, pulling the hobbit into his arms and Bilbo choked a bit of the dwarf’s hair. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Fili said from behind, arms around Bilbo’s waist. “We thought Nori and Bofur was our friend, but if one of them has assaulted you we will have him beheaded!”

Bilbo sputtered, “What! Oh Eru, no! No one did anything to me, good gracious, this is all a misunderstanding I’m sure!”

Kili tucked Bilbo’s head under his chin, trying to pat the hobbit soothingly on the back of the head. He failed in that regard because he was too rough and would have suffocated Bilbo against his heavy leathered chest if it wasn’t for Fili.

“Brother, let the halfling speak.”    

Grunting, Kili gave Bilbo a bit of breathing room.

“P-please, this is all a misunderstanding. I don’t know why Nori jumped Bofur, we were just talking.” Bilbo looked around, trying to catch sight of the others. “Bofur didn’t hurt me in any way.”

Fili leaned forward and pulled Bilbo’s hand into the light, gentle finger pushing the cuff of Bilbo’s sleeve aside to look at the wound. “Then how did this happen?”

Bilbo yanked his hand back quickly. “None of your business.”

Both Fili and Kili scowled, looking so much like Thorin just then that Bilbo ached to have his dwarf here. Thorin would handle this, he could probably clear all this mess up and alleviate any misgivings towards the others with a simple explanation. Bofur’s words had been confusing at first, but now that Bilbo’s temper wasn’t so heated he came to realize his friend had just been trying to warn Bilbo of Thorin’s veiled noble status. Something the hobbit already knew!  

The commotion had drawn a large crowd by now. Most seeing Nori and Dwalin just shook their heads and kept walking, but some had stopped to watch the going-on with amusement and unconcealed glee. It only caused the crowd to titter in laughter when Ori and Balin joined the scene.

“Brother! Master Dwalin!” Ori squawked, the books in his arms tumbling to the ground and quickly forgotten. The guard quickly dropped Nori and Bofur to their rumps, both dwarves moaning in pain at the violent handling.

“Ori!” Dwalin whirled around, face flushed. With the large dwarf distracted, Bifur and Bombur rushed through the crowd to help Bofur up, putting an arm around the limping dwarf as they got to their feet. Nori scowled, hobbling up by himself.

Balin seemed to be the only one not distressed by the situation, taking everything in with a calm demeanor and sharp eyes. He held Bilbo’s gaze for a steady moment before nodding at the princes. “Master Fili, Master Kili, can you please take Mister Baggins to the healers, he should have his wrists looked at before he bruises too badly. Mister Nori, I think you should explain to me why you tussled with Mister Bofur.”

Bofur tried to cry out at Bilbo and the princes, but Dwalin quickly overcame his embarrassment at being caught by Ori dangling his brother like a criminal and slapped a hand over the miner’s mouth to silence him. “None of that now, tell your grievances to Balin when it’s your turn.”

Bilbo tried to stay behind to explain, but with the combined strength of Fili and Kili he’d had little choice but to go along with them. Loni, who’d been watching by the wayside, gasped as they walked past, eyes huge as she looked from Bilbo to the princes’ arms around the hobbit with a dawning understanding alight in her eyes. Bilbo shook his head wildly, a frog suddenly caught in his throat and unable to say anything as things just spiraled even more out of his control. He didn’t understand, why was this all happening?

Oin had been kind enough not to say much as he bandaged Bilbo’s wrists. Half of that could be because he couldn’t hear Fili and Kili’s wild speculations about the incident or he was just smart enough not to pay the Princes’ too much mind. Otherwise, the older dwarf rubbed a soothing balm over the cuts from the cufflinks and handed over a bottle of herbal cream for Bilbo to put on his bruises later. Oin fussed over Bilbo for a minute afterwards, before he diagnosed the hobbit in good health and able to go home.

“But my work,” Bilbo said, looking around at the other watching. “I can’t just leave, Master Flar is expecting me to help him.”

Fili put an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder. “You let us handle that. Just concentrate on getting better.”

“It’s just some light bruising, and the cuts are too tiny to hinder me.” Bilbo scowled, jerking a bit away from the dwarf prince. He wasn’t use to others being so handsy towards him except for Thorin. And really, the princes should know to be more respectful of a person’s space.

Kili grunted, tossing the cufflinks he’d been asked to hold by Oin into the air before catching them again. “Exactly, Bofur must have been really forceful with you to cause bruising. He’ll be punished for leaving marks on you. Thorin won’t stand for it.”

“N-no!” Bilbo sputtered, regretting telling them what had happened. “I don’t know about dwarves but us hobbits bruise pretty easily. If you went around arresting all the dwarves who left marks on me, you be locking up almost all our friends and yourselves too. Thorin has no room to talk either!”

The dwarves in the room turned pink, looking quickly away from the hobbit.

“Please Mister Baggins, we’d rather not hear about Thorin leaving m-marks on you,” Kili said, pocketing the cufflinks with a distressed expression. “Some knowledge should be left in the bedroom.”

“Why I never!” Bilbo turned red, jumping to his feet and storming towards the door. The Princes rushed to follow him. “Such improper accusations! I don’t care if you are royalty, I will not have Thorin’s or my own honor questioned like that. To say that-- that he would do something so indecent when we are not even engaged yet, I won’t stand for it!”

“Mister Baggins,” Fili yelled, reaching to pull Bilbo back before his brother could. “Please, we didn’t mean, well, Kili might have said but he’s a simpleton--”

“What!” Kili squawked.

“Nothing improper was implied and we don’t question yours or Thorin’s honor. Just slow down, you don’t want to injure yourself again. We’ll walk you home.”

Bilbo tried to shake them off, growling under his breath about annoying dwarves. “I’m not heading home, I’m going back to work.”

“Whoa,” Kili said, cutting off the route towards the kitchens with his body. “Not happening. You won’t get any work done with everyone asking what happened and you shouldn’t overuse your hands right now.”  

“Gah!” Bilbo stopped suddenly to avoid running into Kili and Fili ran into his back instead, the two toppling to the ground in a heap. Bilbo groaned, the breath knocked out of him by the weight of the dwarf, thankfully Kili quickly helped his brother up and together the two pulled Bilbo to his feet.

“Sorry Mister Baggins,” Fili apologized, wincing when he caught sight of Bilbo’s limp. “I didn’t mean--”

“No, stop!” Bilbo yanked his hands back, rather done with today all together. “Just… leave me alone. I’ll go home, but I’ll go on my own thank you.”

“But--” Kili started to say and Fili shushed him.

“If that is what you wish, we hadn’t meant any inconvenience.”

Bilbo brushed the dirt from his clothes and checked that the bottle of healing cream hadn’t broken. Maybe it would be better if he just called the day to rest, went home and made himself some tea before going to bed early. Surely tomorrow will be a better day.

“Thank you. Maybe next time we meet things will not be so… terrible.”

The two princes stayed silent as Bilbo toddled down the hallway towards the east exit. Relieved just to be away from dwarves and all the mayhem they caused. Poor Master Flar, the dwarf was going to get frustrated with the lack of help Bilbo was giving him. Here he was hired to do a job and it seemed like half the time he was being pulled away for silly reasons or causing a distraction with just his presence.

Bilbo was actually in bed reading a book when there was a knock at the door. It wasn’t too late, he’d actually just gone to bed early because he was just so frustrated at the way his day had turned out. When he’d returned home, the sight of his messy smial had just disturbed him so much there was little he could do but clean. He packed some of his mother’s old belongings up, mostly her doilies and dress patterns, since he had no use for them anymore. He was hard pressed to get rid of the items, so he ended up storing them in a barely used closet in the guest room. After that he did some dusting, cleaned the high ceiling beams and chandeliers, and discovering a nest of bees had settled in over the back porch. That hadn’t been fun getting the pesky insects away from the house and he was stung a few times in retaliation.   

When all that was done and Bilbo was satisfied with how the house looked, he stomped inside for a large supper and then settled to bed for a light bit of reading. Not once thinking about the day’s stressful events and the meddlesome dwarves he’d encountered. Even Master Pumpernickel had beaten a hasty retreat to the gardens for the night when he’d caught sight of Bilbo’s mood.

The knocking at the door was insistent though, so throwing on his favorite patchwork robe, Bilbo shuffled to the door with a candlestick in hand. Cracking the door open a sliver he caught sight of someone he wholly wasn’t expecting to see today.

“Thorin!”

The dwarf, who’d been admiring the rising moon not a moment ago, whirled around and beamed at the hobbit. “Bilbo.”

He opened the door wider to let the dwarf in and Thorin smirked at the hobbit’s attire. Bilbo quickly set the candlestick aside so he could tie his robe tighter around his waist. He didn’t want to give Thorin a licentious view after all their talks of improper behavior.

“I’m sorry, were you asleep?” Thorin asked, looking around at the darkened halls of Bag End.

“No,” Bilbo sighed, leading the dwarf into the sitting room where a small fire was still going for the absent cat. “I was in bed, just reading. Today has been a trying day.”

Thorin’s brows furrowed and he looked Bilbo over. Thankfully the hobbit’s robe was long and all his injuries were hidden from view. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m actually surprised you haven’t heard about it yet. I thought that’s why you might be here,” Bilbo muttered, flopping back into his chair with a huff.

The dwarf shook his head, looking even more concerned as he watched the hobbit sulk. “I haven’t. I’ve been busy today and there was a meeting with Gandalf that was extra time consuming because the Elvenking sent a missive about where he wants to lodge while in Erebor, and the rooms have been already taken by another. Thranduil’s not too pleased, but Bard has accommodations that he can use.”

Bilbo grunted, elves were the least of his worries today. His friends were fighting with each other, Nori and Bofur most likely in trouble with Dwalin, and Ori had looked so horror struck by seeing how Dwalin had treated his brother, and Fili and Kili were their usual troublesome selves. That wasn’t even counting all the trouble he was most likely in at work for leaving his station without permission. Loni might have told Flar what had happened, but it still unnerved Bilbo to know that she thought he was courting one of the Princes, or both.

Thorin leaned forward, thick hair falling around his shoulders like a curtain. “Tell me, what has happened and I will see it fixed.”

Sniffling, Bilbo felt the whole frustrating day just surge up inside him at the kind words from his dwarf. It was too much to bare and he really only wanted someone else to fix things for him for once. If only he could trust Thorin not to go on a rampage seeking revenge. “I just… I don’t know! Things were okay until I got to the mountain, then things just got--got strange.”

Through no small feat of strength, Thorin gently picked the hobbit up and folded him into his lap as he took his usual seat before the hearth. Thorin rubbed a soothingly warm hand up and down Bilbo’s arm, tucking the hobbit’s head against his shoulder until Bilbo could breathe regularly again. His anxiety attack slowly melting into fine tremors.

“Shh, be at peace my halfling,” Thorin whispered against Bilbo’s ear. “My treasure, I shall guard you from all who would harm you.”

“No one did anything to me,” Bilbo grumbled, feeling silly now that he noticed he was sitting in Thorin’s lap like a child would. He was male and a grown hobbit, not a child seeking reassurance from a parent. Only when he tried to squirm away, Thorin held tight to his waist and wouldn’t let him go.

Chuckling, Thorin kissed at Bilbo’s brow and tucked his cloak around both their shoulders. “Stay, tell me of your day and who I shall punish for making you cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Bilbo said even as he sniffled. In retaliation he used the edge of Thorin’s cloak to wipe his nose and received a scowl for his troubles. “I was just feeling a bit overwhelmed is all. The dwarves have all gone mad or something, and I barely got a moment of peace today.”

“Ah,” Thorin breathed, the beads in his beard tickling coldly against the skin of Bilbo’s neck. “I will need more of an explanation.”

Wiggling into a more comfortable position so he could put his arms around Thorin’s chest and his feet over the armrest, Bilbo leaned farther into Thorin’s warmth. He was just so happy to be with someone who wasn’t treating him so strangely. At least with Thorin he didn’t have any unwelcome surprises or shocking behavior, or rather nothing worse than what the dwarf usually did. He always knew what to expect from Thorin on most days. “Everybody was staring at me. I guess Master Jari gossiped about the sword I was having made and everyone had these wild speculations. They kept whispering behind my back and we hardly got any work done in the kitchens.”

Thorin went rigid, breath catching in his lungs. “You are… you are having a courting sword commissioned?”

Bilbo nodded, breathing in the warm spicy scent of his dwarf. “Yes. Master Balin suggested it and he said Master Jari is the best.”

“He is,” Thorin gasped, and Bilbo finally looked up at the dwarf to see what had him in such a fuddle disposition.

“Thorin?”

The dwarf blinked, a slow grin gracing his face. “I wasn’t… you really do plan to accept my offer?”

Bilbo’s mouth automatically closed and he felt his cheeks flush. Was he supposed to keep the commission a secret until the final offer was made? It seemed odd that Thorin wouldn’t have heard about it by now if everyone else was talking about it. Also, it wasn’t a secret that they were affectionate towards each other, surely Thorin knew of Bilbo’s feelings? He wasn’t a tease. “Well… of course.”

The grin the hobbit received for that admission was nearly blinding. Thorin’s eye’s crinkled in joy and he smiled so wide he bared his teeth. A laugh snuck out as Thorin pulled Bilbo towards him for a kiss.

“I’m happy,” Thorin missed and got Bilbo’s chin instead, wet lips dragging up towards the hobbit’s mouth. “I hoped, but it’s good to hear you say it.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo gasped as their mouth aligned, and they both lost a few long moments reacquainting each other their attentions. It was when Bilbo’s hand grabbed something hard when he was expecting the thick cloth of Thorin’s tunic did the two pull apart.

“What’s that?”

“Hmm?” Thorin blinked lazily at the hobbit. “Ah, yes. Your next gift.” He struggled for a moment trying to grab the object from his pocket and keep Bilbo in his lap at the same time, until finally he pulled the gold box out and into the open.

“What is it?” Bilbo looked curiously at the object, it looked like a square block of gold at first, and then when Thorin handed it over the lightness of the object conflicted with the first observation. Around the edges were very thin lines that ran about it, and in the middle of one square was the crown with seven stars symbol that was also on the bead Thorin gave him when they first met. Bilbo shook it, and heard a tiny sound inside, like another object was loose within it.

“Careful,” Thorin said, holding Bilbo’s wrist’s still. “It’s a puzzle box and it belonged to my brother. He had a fancy for riddles and mysteries. I’ve never been able to open it, but I thought you might.”

“Oh, so it is not a gift then?” Bilbo frowned at the object, checking it over for a latch or keyhole. He couldn’t imagine why Thorin would give him something so precious, especially from someone who Bilbo assumed was deceased. Bilbo could hardly part with the trinkets he’d had to give away to his relatives at his mother’s funeral, and those items were not near as prized as the gold puzzle box Thorin handed over to him.

Thorin chuckled, “It is. I think he’d like you to have it though, you are clever and good with challenges. I think he gave it to me as a prank, knowing I would never be able to open it.”

“But what if inside there is something important to you?”

“I doubt it, we were children when he gave it to me,” Thorin said, sighing into Bilbo’s hair. Bilbo had never seen anything like the box before, but he quite enjoyed puzzles and such.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said, looking up at the dwarf. “This is from your brother? This object must have great sentimental value, you can’t give this to me.”

“I have other gifts from my brother, this is but one.” Thorin looked towards the ceiling, like he was trying to see through the roof and at the stars. “I mean to show you the depth of my affection, by choosing something valuable not by it’s worth in gold but by its personal worth. He died when we tried to take back Khazad-dûm in the Battle of Azanulbizar, along with my grandfather. Frerin was young, not yet grown into his beard when he took on the orc Azog in battle. He slayed the foul beast but was mortally wounded in the process.”

Bilbo swallowed thickly, and the box in his hands suddenly becoming very heavy. “I-I will take care of this treasure then, since it means so much to you.”

Thorin sighed, looking back at Bilbo with a sad smile. “Thank you.”

Turning the puzzle box over in his hands, Bilbo studies it for any clues to how to open it. Besides the seal on the one side, every side looked the same. It would take a few hours to figure out even where to begin.

“I like it,” Bilbo said, smiling slowly up at his dwarf. “I don’t know how you knew, but I do like puzzles and riddles also. It’s a clever gift. I think I would have liked your brother.”

Grunting, Thorin put an arm back around Bilbo’s waist. “I fear you would have liked him more than me and I most likely would have had to challenge him to a contest for your hand.”

“Nonsense,” Bilbo laughed, sliding from Thorin’s lap so he could put the box on the mantel. “As of today you are my favorite dwarf in the mountain.”

Whining a bit, Thorin made grabby-motions with his hands for Bilbo to return. The hobbit easily ignored him as he looked at the objects already lining the fireplace.

“You are implying that I’m not always your favorite dwarf,” Thorin said, pouting at Bilbo’s back.

“Of course you aren’t,” Bilbo teased. Finally making a decision he took the silver chalice up in hand and resolutely walked back to Thorin before setting the cup in the dwarf’s shocked hands. “Here, my gift to you.”

Thorin held the cup up to the light and inspected it, twirling it around by the stem and he read the engravings. “It is of elvish make,” Thorin stated, face carefully neutral.    

“Yes, and I know how you feel about elves, but this is of very sentimental value to me. It belonged to my mother, she was gifted it by Lord Elrond himself in Imladris on her great adventure. It glows if there is poison in the cup.”

“Ah,” Thorin’s expression smoothed out to one of curiosity as he looked the chalice over with new interest. “How fascinating. Have you seen it glow?”

“Um…” Bilbo paused, giving Thorin an odd look. “No one’s ever tried to poison me, so no.”

“Pity.” Thorin startled then, blinking furiously as he thought about what he just said. “I mean-- not that it’s a pity you weren’t poisoned. I meant, only that, I would like to see how the chalice works, not that I wish any ill will on you. At all. I like you safe and healthy, always.”

Bilbo started laughing and it was like all his worries from the day slipped away. All the aggravation and frustration disappeared because his dwarf was sputtering like a tween who’d put his foot in his mouth. In no way did he think Thorin wished him any harm, but it was a bit shocking to hear the things Thorin sometimes said when he didn’t think about things first. “Thorin, I know you didn’t mean it how it sounded. I understand.”

Thorin groaned and rubbed the heel of his hands against his eyes. “It is getting late and I am not thinking correctly. Forgive me.”

Helping the dwarf to his feet, Bilbo fussed at Thorin’s cloak, making sure everything was on right and tight. The silver cup tucked away in a pocket where it wouldn’t get lost. “You are always forgiven. Now give me a kiss so I will have sweet dreams tonight.”

“So bossy,” Thorin muttered, but obliged Bilbo by leaning down for another long kiss, this time nearly scooping the hobbit off his feet in his haste to continue deepening the lip lock. Shockingly delicious tingles traveled up Bilbo’s spine at the manhandling and he almost moaned aloud at the treatment. In alarm of his own behavior, Bilbo beat his fist against the dwarf’s shoulders until he was released with a startled gasp.

“Thorin!” Bilbo yelped in outrage.

The dwarf just smirked, sweeping his cloak behind him in a theatrical move that sent the hobbit into giggles. “I’m off. May all your dreams be of me, my treasure.”

“Silly dwarf,” Bilbo muttered, showing Thorin out before locking the door behind him. Shaking his head, Bilbo headed back to bed. He felt now like he’d be able to sleep easy.

  


****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, in no way, dislike Bofur. In some ways I think he's more of a friend to Bilbo than any of the others, and I think it's very couragous of him to risk Thorin's wrath by telling the truth.  
> In regards to Frerin and Azog, I changed up things about the battle of Moria as we see in the movie or read in the book. Frenrin really did die at the battle, but I wanted him to die honorably by defeating a terrible foe. While the effects to Thorin were dire, it didn't turn him into the battlehardened character we all know. I imagine Thorin and Frerin were like Fili and Kili (maybe not as 'close' though), where Frerin rushed to his brothers aid to save him and was wounded in the process, but he struck a killing blow where Thorin would have only wounded Azog.  
> Also, to all those who have asked questions and I haven't answered, I really want to, but I'm afraid I'll end up blurting out future tid-bits that I'm plotting for later chapters. As for other character's appearance like Bard and Thranduil, they most likely will appear but I haven't worked out where or how yet. Now, I'm going to get back to writing! =)


	13. Heartburn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo realizes things about himself, visits his cousin and Ori, and reacts to some shocking news.

****

 

There was a package on his doorstep when he woke up the next day. There was no address or sender’s name so at first Bilbo assumed it was another present from Thorin, it was only when he opened it and saw what was probably the most beautiful dagger he’d ever seen that everything came crashing down around him.

The fact that this dagger, this one, was the one he planned to give Thorin when the dwarf officially asked for his hand in marriage was just exponentially a large decision to finally become aware of. Was he really going to accept Thorin’s suit?

He’d told Thorin the night before that he was, as easily as one accepted an invitation to lunch with the relatives. At the moment, looking back he couldn’t help but think he was very hasty in his decision. Marriage was a big deal.

While every tween hobbit went about planning or talking about their future courting, at a young age Bilbo had always thought it was silly to assume things were going to happen exactly how one planned. Hobbits like Lobelia who wanted silver spoons and the biggest party with the best decorations or Reginard’s rather stark traditional ceremony to his dwarf, everything happening just how they wanted it to. Bilbo had always thought just a few love letters would be satisfying enough for him, just as long as he knew he held the other’s heart he’d tag along on whatever fancy they designed for their union. Only now he had a dwarf bringing him fields of flowers and gold boxes to tempt him, talking wild tales and making grand promises of their future together. It was safe to say, that Bilbo felt things were way out of his hand in this regard.

Then there was the fact that things were moving so fast! Even after discussing it with Thorin, the fact that the dwarf was still bringing him gifts as quickly as he could make them seemed to mean that Thorin wanted to wed as quickly as possible. He’d barely known Thorin a full moon’s cycle and they were discussing a future together, a permanent future. There was still so much to learn about each other, things to plan, opinions to discuss. Take for example, where were they to live? Bilbo had never once thought about leaving Bag End, but he’d never known a dwarf to leave the mountain willingly. Even one who’d married a hobbit. There were other things that needed discussing, like their extended family, their respective jobs and schedules, their differences in culture and values and as tasteless as it sounded, they hadn’t even discussed finances!

For all he knew, Thorin would take one look at Bilbo’s extended family and think the hobbit just wasn’t worth getting tied up with all the Baggins, Tooks, Grubbs, and everyone else of relation dodging around the Shire like the mischief-makers and gossips they all were. They were a good sort, but sometimes they drove Bilbo harried and he generally had to put up with them. Poor Thorin, he just didn’t know what he was getting into by courting Bilbo.  

There was no denying his affections for Thorin though. What Bilbo felt for the dwarf was unlike any silly crush he’d experienced in his youth. There was passion, a challenging intelligence, a heady physical attraction, and an easy air between them that he’d never experienced with another being before. Things had happened between them like it was _meant_ to happen, and that scared Bilbo. Even when things weren’t perfect or they were being stubborn and mean to the other, nothing about them being together felt wrong.

Only, something didn’t feel right.

Bilbo didn’t feel like there was anything amiss with them as a couple, he just felt that there might be something faulty with… _him_. The hobbit wondered if this was what his mother felt like, growing up with Bungo and always knowing he was her one true love, but the wanderlust for adventure and exploration just tempting her right outside her reach, until she could do nothing to satisfy that ache except take those steps out of her door and into the beyond. The Baggins side of Bilbo actually seemed happy to settle down, but there was a tiny Took heritage inside the hobbit that just wasn’t sure. It was like there was a war going on inside him, one part screaming ‘yes, let’s do this’ and another warning him to ‘slow down and not jump ahead of himself’.

Maybe this was the panic Bilbo was experiencing? It sounded preposterous that he thought he might miss out on an adventure, horrid things they were, like his mother almost did, but maybe there was still some of that Tookish blood in him, a bit wanting of bigger things. It would account for the fact that he actually wanted to marry a dwarf. Goodness, which meant Otho was right!

But he didn’t want to believe what he felt for Thorin was a passing fancy or on account of his Took heritage seeking bigger things by setting him up with any old imposing dwarf. Thorin was…Thorin. Bilbo didn’t think he had it in him just to fall for the first dwarf with a handsome smirk who wandered into his garden and started smoking his pipe-weed. His dwarf was special. He felt…felt _love_ for Thorin, deep from the marrow of his bones to the ends of his curly hair.

Oh Eru, he was in love with Thorin!

Bilbo groaned, and slid down the wall to sit at the base of the door. Love was such a difficult thing to deal with, but he shouldn’t have been so surprised. He’d taken to Thorin way too quickly for it to be anything but. All Baggins and Took heritages aside, the heart of this hobbit belongs only to one dwarf from what was probably the very beginning.

He pulled the dagger out of the package and examined the detailing. It really was quite beautiful, even better than what he imagined. Master Jari had outdone himself, in his workmanship and dedication to all the elements Bilbo had requested, and he’d gotten it done so fast too! It was a light weapon, and given the sheath was only a simple leather cover meant to be tied to a belt most of the weight seemed to be from the blade itself. Bilbo scrutinized the dagger.

The hilt was made from a pale green, almost white, rock with inlaid swirling veins of shining silver running through it that ended in tiny, shimmering blue crystal flowers near the pommel and polished green emerald leaves. The guard was a slender, silvery steel with a braid design along the edge, nothing fancy, just a neat plait impression. While beautiful to look at and simplistic to most weapons the hobbit had seen other dwarves carry, it could be considered maybe a bit fanciful for a dagger to be so elfish in comparison to the heavy, bulky weapons produced from the mountain. But to Bilbo, it was perfect.    

Bilbo put a firm hand around the handle and pulled the dagger from its sheath, the blade glistening razor-sharp and unyielding. He didn’t know much about how to wield it or test its strength, so he did what he usually did when buying a kitchen knife. Using a bit of wrapping paper from the box it was packed in, Bilbo tested the sharpness of the edge.

It was like cutting through warm butter, seamless and easy, with no resistance at all.

Gulping, Bilbo quickly put the dagger back into its casing. He’d never even seen butcher knives that sharp! Goodness, how was one supposed to keep themselves from cutting their own hand off handling that? He supposed Thorin would appreciate a weapon that not only looked nice but could actually work, so at least there was some good to its fine edge.

Pulling himself off the floor, Bilbo set the dagger back into the packaging and hid the whole thing under his bed. At least that way, he could literally sleep on the decision. He might be in love with Thorin, but the heart was quick where the head was thorough. He still had lots of things to think about.

He fed Master Pumpernickel before he dressed, hurrying into his regular clothes and out the door before the sun was even starting to crest the willow tree. He thought it might be a good decision to talk to someone about his problem. Someone who might have an inkling of what he was going through.

In all his time of knowing Reginard, he’d never once visited the dwarf in the mountain since he moved there. The other hobbit was a few years older, fourth cousins by blood, and by hobbit standards somewhat stringent in personality and therefore of no interest to a wild and younger Bilbo for the longest time. That stern disposition had made Reg’s marriage to a dwarf, of all things, even more unexpected, being such a respectable and proper hobbit for a Took. But the Tooks had a saying that love knew no bounds, and if Belladonna could fall for a stiff upper-lip like Bungo, then Reginard’s affections for a dwarf wasn’t all that different in their opinion.

Bilbo had to stop by his cousin Adelard’s to get Reginard’s new address, which waylaid him a bit because the older hobbit wanted to talk about a book he’d found at the Tuckborough library, and Bilbo had to promise to return some other time when he wasn’t in a rush.

“Sorry Mister Adelard, I would love to stop and chat but I really must talk with Reginard.”

The older hobbit sneezed, dusting off the ‘newest’ addition to the library’s collection. “But my boy, it’s a fascinating tale! I think dwarvish? Reminds me of the story of Isengrim Took and his fairy wife.”

“Later, I promise,” Bilbo yelled, hurrying out the door before he could be tempted. He’d about read every book in the old library by now, but somehow the old hobbit still found old tomes every now and then in the basement.  

Reginard’s place was hard to find, even after he stopped and asked a few guards for direction. It was high up in the concave fashioned apartments that overlooked the large hollowed atrium of the throne room. Bilbo walked slowly as he followed the hallway, the once thick rock walls turning to gold banisters so the view became open and clear. He could see specks of dwarves milling about the walkways high above the mountain chasm, a few tall figures that looked like elves and even one grey figure that quite possibly might be Gandalf. Bilbo was almost sad to find the apartment he was looking for since he was enjoying the view so much.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Reginard gasped, blinking owlishly at the other hobbit after he knocked. “What on Middle-Earth are you doing here?”

“Sorry Reginard,” Bilbo shrugged. “I needed someone to talk to and you seemed best able to help me.”

The other hobbit blinked, shaking himself out of his gawking and opening the door wider for Bilbo to enter. The home was quaint, a fine mix of metal furnishings and soft fabric. It didn’t look anything like a hobbit hole, being that the walls were rock and the windows small, but it looked like Reginard had tried his best to assimilate all he could from the Shire into his new home. Many decorations Bilbo recognized from the smial Reginard had lived in before the move, but the room full of weapons was a new and intimidating addition.

“Ginnar’s at work,” Reginard answered even though Bilbo hadn’t asked. “Things have been hectic in the mountain lately. He says the King’s gone crazy, not literally mind you, but Ginnar says they have the others running ragged all over Erebor on secret errands. Won’t speak a word of it to me, silly dwarf, only comes home exhausted begging for supper.”

“Oh?” Bilbo accepted the cup of tea Reg passed over and they both sat on the couch. The hobbit looked healthy and happy, which was really all one could wish for a relative who married and moved away from the family. Reginard’s sable locks glistened in the lantern light, his cheeks flushed happily, eyes bright with joy, and his baring relaxed. It seemed marriage to a dwarf had loosened Reginard up from his severe manner.

“Sorry, I was expecting him home for elevenses and I thought you were him.” The older hobbit blushed, tucking his beaded wedding braids behind a pointed ear.

Bilbo took a careful sip of tea and glanced around in appropriate awe of the apartment, “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

Reginard waved him off, scoffing. “Please, it’s not nearly as nice as the hill I once owned, but it gets me by. Ginnar’s proud of it, likes the view and all, and says it pretty large for just the two of us. He was living in the barracks before he married me.”

“I hadn’t known that,” Bilbo said, trying to look interested. Inside he was dismay though and Reginard must have noticed something off and squinted at him.

“Bilbo, is something wrong?”

“Oh Eru, yes,” Bilbo muttered, slumping against the back of the couch. “I’m in such a dilemma. I’m being courted by a dwarf!”

Reginard took the news calmly, setting his teacup aside gently and putting a reassuring hand on Bilbo’s knee. “I assume you’ve come to me because you plan to accept the suit?”

“I want to,” Bilbo said, looking towards the window and out at the throne room. “But I’m scared. Things are happening so fast, and what if it is just a passing desire that my Took side has caught me up in, and later I will regret it?”

“Do you imagine yourself in love with them?”

Bilbo closed his eyes, breathing deeply before he answered. “Y-yes.”

“Then there is nothing to fear,” Reginard said softly. “I worried too when I met Gin, thought it was just the Took in me I’d been suppressing for so long rearing up in revenge. But I thought long and hard on it, and what it came down to was that I couldn’t imagine a future without him and I could not see myself going back to my usual self after him either. He inspired me to be the hobbit I am today and he never made me feel bad about the hobbit I was. With him I am always happy and that’s all that really matters.”

“Ah,” Bilbo sighed. “I guess, maybe I just haven’t had time to feel like that yet? He makes me happy, but he sometimes drives me crazy too.”

Reginard laughed. “That happens too. Dwarves, they do these weird things and then expect us hobbits to understand why. Gin get’s these weird looks when I fly off the handle every time he leaves his bloody axes on the furniture or messing up the towels in the bathroom. He thinks I get too caught up in impractical nonsense instead of sensible things like weapons and armor.”

“So that’s something not limited to just my dwarf then? Did you know I had to have a weapon commissioned just to accept his proposal?”

The other hobbit chuckled, pointing at a large sword displayed on the wall. “Me too. I had that made in secret while Ginnar was courting me. I couldn’t let the other’s know, they’d think I was crazy asking to have a sword made, but I was told it was paramount to a dwarf marriage.”  

“It sounded ridiculous to me too,” Bilbo muttered. “I just got mine back from the weapon-smith today.”    

Pouring more tea into Bilbo’s cup, Reginard fussed over the younger hobbit. “I’m guessing that’s what set you off?”

“Yes,” Bilbo mumbled, the tea bitter in his mouth.

“Is it because he’s a dwarf?”  The Reginard leaned over and peeked at the other hobbit’s face, looking kind even though Bilbo was frowning mulishly.

Bilbo shook his head.

“Well that’s good then,” Reginard said, brows furrowed in confusion as Bilbo’s mood worsened.

“I don’t think I’m good enough for him,” Bilbo spilled, frustration getting the better of him. Reginard was good to talk to, but he wished it was his mother here instead reassuring him. She could explain things to him, why he was feeling so odd about Thorin and the marriage. Why he felt so restless and anxious, even though he was supposedly happily in love.

“Oh Bilbo…” Reginard pulled Bilbo into his arms, holding him tightly against his side. “Of course you are good enough. You are probably better than he deserves, though I’ve never met your dwarf, I’ve known you a long time and I think you are worthy of the best.”

“What if I break his heart?” The younger hobbit sniffled, taking the handkerchief Reg offered and wiping his nose. “Dwarves only love once, and what if I fall out of love with him and I make us miserable for the rest of our lives?”

“It happens sometimes, but you’re a Took. And us Tooks love greatly and everlastingly. Your dwarf could do no better.”

“But I’m a Baggins too,” Bilbo moaned. Which didn’t make much sense, because if there was any hobbit more dedicated than a Took it was a Baggins. Reginard didn’t have to point that out, there’d never been a divorce on either side of the family to warrant Bilbo’s concerns and he was just making a mountain out of a molehill.   

“Shh,” Reginard tried to sooth him, pouring more tea and making sure Bilbo had enough handkerchiefs when his got soggy with snot. “You just have the wedding jitters. A bit earlier than usual, but everyone gets them when they are thinking of spending forever with someone.”

“You think?” Bilbo blinked wetly up at the older hobbit, Reginard smiled softly back.

“Gin will be mad at me for telling you, but we almost eloped.”

It figured gossip would perk Bilbo up and he felt his head clear somewhat. “Really?”

“Yes,” Reginard sighed. “I got so nervous about the wedding and wouldn’t tell him why. He thinks us hobbits are fussy in general and the family was giving me a hard time because he was a dwarf, but really it was just the waiting getting to me. To a dwarf it’s shameful to marry if the family is against it, but he was willing to risk his honor for me if that was what I desired.”

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo gasped, smiling a bit back. “I couldn’t have imaged _you_ doing something like that.”

“Oi,” the other hobbit shook his shoulder. “No talking about me like that, I know how I used to be. I’m a changed hobbit now.”

“I can see that,” Bilbo coughed, looking exaggeratingly at the room they were in. “And marriage, it’s a good look on you. I’m glad I thought to come here.”

A slow smile spread across Reginard’s face and he looked ready to pull Bilbo back into another hug when the door was quite literally kicked open.

“My pearl!”

“Ginnar!” Reginard squeaked, flushing bright red.

“Come my love, we have but a few minutes,” the gruff dwarf hollered from the doorway, hidden from view because of a wall. What sounded like metal and leather hitting the floor soon after the door was kicked closed. “I want to return to the Great Hall with a limp and tell everyone you’ve improved on your sword thrusting. They still think I am training you in sword fighting during my breaks.”

Bilbo quirked an eyebrow at the other hobbit’s sputtering. Reginard moaned into his hands, shaking his head wildly as Ginnar kept up his commentary on his husband’s ‘sword handling’.  

“Um, Gin-dear…” Reginard started to say, but then a naked dwarf walked into the room and Bilbo dove behind the other hobbit. “…we have a guest.”

“Oh, oops! Sorry lad,” Ginnar quickly covered the important bits, “didn’t know we had company.”

Reginard sighed loudly and from his spot between the hobbit’s back and the couch cushion, Bilbo could hear the dwarf pulling his clothes back on.

“Could’ve given me a heads up, my pearl,” Ginnar grumbled, lacing up his trousers with quick fingers.

“You hardly gave me a chance.” The hobbit coaxed Bilbo out, reassuring him that his husband was dressed now and the ‘family jewels’ were no longer on display. Bilbo could feel his ears were burning and knew he must appear quite flushed by the whole experience. There was no way he was telling Thorin about this, or anyone else for that matter, they’d tease him for eternity.

“What’s this now,” Ginnar looked the most undisturbed about the whole debacle, taking a seat in a chair across from the hobbits and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Family come to visit?”

“Gin, this is Bilbo. You remember him don’t you?”

Bilbo gave a small wave, hoping the dwarf had been too drunk at the wedding celebrations to actually remember him. After all the dancing and drinking, a few fellows had sat around for a bit of old Toby and Bilbo had teasingly told Ginnar that they were smoking dandelions, not knowing the dwarf was going to pluck some flowers and try to smoke them a short time later. It hadn’t endeared the dwarf to the family when he was caught pulling up Rosamunda’s prized flower patch.

Ginnar stroked his beard, squinting at Bilbo with a suspicious look. “Maybe. Name sounds familiar.”

Bilbo laughed nervously, “Its fine if you don’t remember me, I was just stopping by for a quick visit to my cousin’s. Um, I’ll let you two get back to your… elevenses. If that’s what your calling it now Reg?”

“Bilbo!” Reginard gasped, scandalized. Ginnar though looked excited at the prospect to have his husband alone.

The goodbyes were quick, mostly because the gleam in Ginnar’s eyes was vaguely uncomfortable and somewhat familiar to Bilbo, so he hugged his cousin and promised to return on a better day. It would come to reason that Bilbo was finding out that maybe Thorin’s handsy nature wasn’t just a Thorin thing and maybe more of a dwarf thing from the looks of it. Ginnar held Reginard’s hand the whole time they were near one another and tried to sneak kisses while the hobbit attempted to send Bilbo off in proper fashion. Reginard looked so embarrassed by the behavior, but Bilbo thought it was sweet they were still so taken with each other.  

Bilbo was halfway down the hall when Reginard caught up with him, shirt muddled and hair tousled, a distinct pucker to his lips that meant he’d been thoroughly kissed.  

“Wait, Bilbo!” The other hobbit panted, coming to an abrupt stop before the hobbit.

“Are you wearing shoes?” Bilbo asked, because that was the one thing that really caught his eye. It was possibly the strangest thing he’d ever seen. A hobbit, wearing shoes!

“Oh, um, slippers,” Reginard muttered, shuffling his feet as Bilbo gaped at them. “I have to, in the mountain. Everybody else wears boots and they don’t watch where they step. Also, the grounds cold.”

“Goodness,” Bilbo gasped, hand going to his suspenders. “You really have gone native.”

Reginard pouted, ears wiggling in embarrassment. “T-there--I have, um, wait-- I just wanted to t-tell you something, but now you’ve got me all flustered.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Bilbo said, dragging his eyes away from the sight. The others in the Shire would be scandalized to hear about this. Bilbo quickly decided never to tell a soul. “Go on then.”

“Right,” Reginard took a deep breath and seemed to get a handle of himself. “I just wanted to say, if you have any more doubts or questions, you can always come back to see me. I hardly get visitors from the Shire since the wedding, and I’m actually kind of happy that you of all hobbits are being courted. I think you’ll do well here.”

“Yeah?” Bilbo winced, not wanting to bring up the fact that he didn’t know if he’d even move into Erebor if Thorin and he were married. They hadn’t discussed it yet, and Reginard looked occupied at the moment to answer any questions Bilbo might have about living here. “I’ll try to visit more often. I’ve been working in the kitchens lately and I could find some time to stop by and say hello.”

They hug before going their own ways, promises to visit more often and to make plans to have dinner one day with both their respective dwarves there. It would be nice to talk to a couple in a similar situation as Thorin and he were. Bilbo’s sure there are question’s Thorin would like to ask Ginnar about hobbits that he might be afraid to ask Bilbo.

Since there was time, Bilbo decided to stop by the library. Wanting to check on Ori and see if he has any news about Bofur and Nori, and what their fates were yesterday.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ori grumbles, looking wane and haggard, the dwarf’s braids were sticking straight out and some hair was a bit loose. Bilbo could only assume Ori just didn’t care what he looked like at the moment or he just didn’t have time to look in a mirror this morning, but he looked horrible. His heart went out to the dwarf.

Bilbo leaned against the desk, Ori’s Master nowhere to be seen. “At least tell me if Master Bofur and Master Nori are okay, please.”

Ori glowers, but his ire doesn’t seem focused on Bilbo. “Nori’s off doing whatever he does during the day, causing a ruckus and getting others into trouble I imagine. I have not heard anything about Bofur since yesterday when he was taken to the medics.”  

“Oh Eru, he was hurt?” Bilbo didn’t like the idea of his friend being injured and promised to check on Bofur once he was done here, he had time.

Ori frowned, closing his book he’d been paging through with a startling clap. “Some small scrapes and bruises, nothing too major. Nori had to have the bite disinfected, but I think he deserved it. Can you believe him, attacking Bofur like that!”

Bilbo shrugged, still a bit baffled by the fight himself. Maybe there was a strained relationship between the two or a grudge that had emerged since that idyllic time in the inn drinking ale together, and when Nori had caught sight of Bofur he’d just been overcome with anger and attacked? He would never know, unless he asked, and there was every possibility it was none of his business and they would not tell him.

“How are you and Master Dwalin?” Bilbo asked gently.

Huffing, Ori jumped to his feet and stormed away. “Who?”

Bilbo quickly followed, wringing his hands in confusion. “Master Dwalin?”

“I have no idea who you are talking about,” Ori sniffed, shelving the book he’d been reading.

“Mister Ori…” Bilbo put his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow. What was with everyone’s odd behavior lately?

The dwarf’s temper seemed to crumble and a sorrowful expression took over his face. “I’ve been banned from seeing him.”

“For what reason?” Bilbo was even more bewildered now. Dwalin had done nothing offensive to Ori or Nori. From what Bilbo could understand Dwalin had only been doing his job when he’d pulled the fighting dwarves apart.

With a pinched expression, Ori stumbled away and down another aisle, feet shuffling against the stone floor. “Dori thinks Nori’s using me as a way to get out of trouble with the guard, and that it would be kinder to let Dwalin move on when there is nothing of significance between us but a passing fancy.”

Bilbo didn’t think Dwalin had it in him to dishonor his duty like that because of a crush for another dwarf’s brother, but he could see where someone might think that. “Oh Ori,” Bilbo disregarded the dwarf’s title, thinking them closer now to ignore it. “From what I’ve been told, no dwarf ever has just a ‘passing fancy’, and I doubt your feelings are insignificant either. You should tell your brothers of your true feelings for Master Dwalin and then maybe the dwarf in question. He might like to know his feelings are returned.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ori muttered, yanking books from the shelves as he walked until the pile was so high he could barely see.

“Well,” Bilbo helped the dwarf and pulled a couple of tomes from the top of the pile so Ori wouldn’t run into anything. “It’s never easy when it comes to feelings. I’ve only just figured out I am in l-love with Thorin and I have not told him yet.” It was harder than he thought telling others of his feelings for the dwarf, he hoped it would be easier when he told Thorin himself. It seemed even acknowledgment made things no easier to speak of it, but Ori looked to be so distress Bilbo overcame his concern and spoke the truth.   

Ori froze, looking wide-eyed at Bilbo. “You are in _love_?”   

“We are courting,” Bilbo said, “I imagine it was to happen eventually. Why the surprise?”

The dwarf sputtered, “N-no surprise, just, um, he’s a hard one to have a-any affection for, being so… intimidating. Not that he’s unlovable, most dwarves respect and admire him, but it’s difficult to get to know him on a more… personable level.”

Bilbo shrugged, “Maybe.” He couldn’t say if Thorin acted different around others, seeing as he’d mostly met the dwarf while they were alone or around the Shire. Dwalin didn’t seem intimidated by Thorin, or Gandalf either. Bilbo imagined the Princes wouldn’t be intimidated by an Oliphant if it tried to step on them, much less Thorin. Though the guard was tough on them, they seemed to take his irritation at them as effortless as one use to growing up with it.

“Mahal,” Ori whispered, looking dazed. Bilbo had to nudge him to get him walking again, the books in his arms growing heavy.

“Enough about me, let’s talk about you and Master Dwalin.”

Ori shook his head wildly. “Let’s not!”

“But you basically have confirmation that he returns your attentions!” Bilbo smiled, shrugging the books onto the desk. “I think that’s good news.”

Bilbo watched as Ori organized the books into piles, face flushed with growing unease. “What if my brother is wrong? Master Dwalin’s always so uncomfortable around me since the incident with the Princes, and Dori thinks it is because he likes me when really he could just be humiliated? And he’s such a great warrior, what would he want with a simple scribe like me?”

Grabbing the dwarf’s hands to still him, Bilbo made sure Ori was looking in his eyes when he said, “I think you are a wonderful dwarf and if Dwalin feels for you what I think he does then he understands the brilliance of your character better than most. Have faith.”

A slow smile bloomed across Ori’s face and he squeezed Bilbo’s hand in happiness. “Thank you Mister Baggins. I think I understand now what Master Thorin sees in you that has him so disarmed.”

“Oh pish,” Bilbo scoffed, releasing Ori’s hands to snap his suspenders against his chest. “Just, think about things. As much as your family means a lot to you, your heart shouldn’t be ignored either. Talk to them.” Though he was having love troubles of his own, it appeared that Bilbo wasn’t against giving out his own advice.

Ori sighed loudly, looking down at the books in front of him. “I’ll think about it. Things are chaotic enough around here to add my own problems to the mix.”

“Good,” Bilbo said, nodding. “I’m going to head to the kitchens now, to find Bofur or Master Bombur. We’ll talk soon?”

Nodding, Ori waved Bilbo off with a thoughtful expression and the hobbit hurried out the library before something caught his eye and distracted him. He’d have to return again when things were less busy, to see Ori and maybe check out a few books. There were a lot of things now he thought he’d need to know about dwarves if he planned to live with one on a permanent basis.

Bilbo saw that Bombur was adding bacon and potatoes to a pot over a fire, but before he could walk over to talk to the dwarf, Master Flar pulled him aside.

“I’m glad you’re here Mi-Master Baggins.”

Bilbo blinked, puzzled by his Master’s worried expression. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Flar nodded, pulling Bilbo to one side so an aide could pass with a flank of steak. “I heard some disturbing news. I didn’t believe it at first, but I asked around and everyone confirmed it. Now I’m not saying it’s shameful for one such as yourself to be a cook, why King Thrór never said anything bad about me when I joined him on his quest, but your situation is mighty different. Very different indeed.”

“Um?” Bilbo paused in trying to catch Bombur’s eye, the dwarf was way too busy to take notice. Loni though saw them and the sad look she gave him confounded him even more. Then the dwarf female nearly wailed before running away, the other cooks stopping what they were doing to watch once they caught on something was happening. All except Bombur, who was humming to himself as he stirred the soup.

Flar continued on, unaware of the worried expression of those around him and Bilbo’s growing agitation, “Why the Consort of the King shouldn’t be working as a-- a pastry chef. The others told me you were trying to be inconspicuous about it and learn more about us. I admire you for that, but you have to understand I can’t have you here distracting everyone from their work. So I’m sorry lad, but I’m just going to have to let you go.”

Bilbo was stunned, his heart about beating out of his chest as the rest of his body froze, the knot in his gut making him nauseous. “Wait, what?”

“King Thorin’s a lot like Thrór, so I don’t think he’ll imagine it’s proper for you to be a servant. I know this is hard new to take lad, but you have bigger and better things to look forward to than cooking meals for lowly dwarves like us.”

“ _K-King_ Thorin?”

It felt like the ground had dropped out from under him and Bilbo shook his head furiously as his vision narrowed to Master Flar’s large, hooked nose.

“Oh, I guess to some he’s still considered Prince. That blasted ceremony’s just a show for the elves I thought? Never you mind, Miss Loni clued me into the situation after yesterday’s fiasco and I’m glad she did. Imagine the shame I’d bring to my family ordering a person of your status like he’s a lowly servant. You should have been upfront with me from the beginning!”

Bilbo felt faint, “A-are you firing me?” It was the only thing he could center his attention on. The air stale and the noise around him turning faint, time seemed to slow down. There was an echo in his head, whispering ‘King Thorin’ over and over again and it still didn’t seem to sink in. Suddenly a lot of things were clicking into place. Gaps in his interactions with others, misplaced conversation now made sense. It felt like everything was focused on what the dwarf would say next.

“W-well, not firing so much as letting go?” Master Flar winced, suddenly looking cornered. “You won’t tell King Thorin I did, would you? He’ll understand you leaving because you need to and we’re only thinking of the other workers, you see. The Princes stopping by is distracting enough, imagine if King Thorin came down himself! He’d have my beard if he thought I was treating you wrong.”

“O-oh…”

Master Flar patted Bilbo on the shoulder, an apprehensive smile on his face. “It was nice while it lasted and we all benefited from your expertise in pies. You’ll stop by for a hello after your made Consort, not a bunch of times please, we’re all a bit befuddles by your new rank and it slows work down.”

“Yes, r-right,” Bilbo stated, standing there stunned for a moment before the ground rapidly rushed towards him and he fainted.   

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t be mad! The trouble with keeping a secret is the more people who know it, the likely it is that it will get out. I expect most of you didn’t expect Flar to be the one to blurt out the secret. There is still more drama to be had though, so stick around.  
> I had a difficult time writing this part out, making Bilbo confused about his feelings but also the fact he was in love coming to light. Sorry if it got jumbled up. I was going to wait until tomorrow to post this chapter, but I was afraid I'd end up redoing the whole thing if given a chance.


	14. Unraveling Knots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin has some explaining to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mentions of Mpreg, but in a joking sense. Also a brief moment where one thinks the other is about to commit suicide.

****

 

Bilbo came too with Flar, Flor, Bombur, and a few other dwarves hovering over him.

“--ya do to him?”

Master Flar was waving his arms around, a panic expression on his face. “Nothing!”

“He’s not fainting for no reason,” Bombur grumbled, pulling a dirty dishrag from his apron pocket and dabbing at Bilbo’s forehead. “He’s coming around, stand back.”

Bilbo moaned, blinking slowly as things came back into focus, though white specks still danced about his vision. There was an annoying buzzing sound coming from his right, and he tried to swat whatever creature was bothering him to go away. His head hurt something horrible and his limbs felt numb, but he was able to lean on his elbows and look around without too much trouble.

Why was he laying on the floor?

“Don’t get up,” Flor growled, pushing Bilbo back down. “Someone grab his feet.”

“Wha?”

His feet were pulled into the air by a dwarf he’d never met before, but the uniform he was wearing identified him as one of the stable hands. Frowning curiously at Bilbo’s hairy bare feet, the young dwarf kept the hobbit’s legs elevated by setting Bilbo’s ankles on his shoulder. Bilbo almost felt like giving the lad a scolding for being so presumptuous with his handling, but he was more concerned about finding out what had happened.

“Does he need something to eat,” Loni’s dark head popped into Bilbo’s view and the hobbit blinked a few times, concerned because for a moment there were two of her. “Ma get’s the vapors when she hasn’t eaten in a long while. Or when she’s pregnant. Is Mister Baggins pregnant?”

“Some water might help,” Bombur answered, feeling around Bilbo’s head for any injury and wincing when a spot caused the hobbit to hiss in pain. “It’s okay, just a small bump from the fall.” 

“Wha-what happened?” Bilbo asked, blinking heavily up at the crowd around him and sipping gently at the cup of water someone held out to him. He felt like someone had rolled him down a hill, sat on him, and then tried to feed him some bad eggs. How did he even get into the Mountain, last he remembered he was in Bag End.

“Oh, this is my entire fault!” Flar wailed, blubbering against his sister’s shoulder. “I didn’t know he was in a delicate state! Mahal, I should just cut my beard and throw myself from the top of the Mountain for shaming my family like this. I didn’t know! The King will have my head on a pike as warning to all who would wish to hurt his budding family.”

Flor swatted at her brother, “He’s not carrying you dunderhead! King Thorin’s not the dishonorable type to go begetting heirs without a proper marriage first.”

The group around Bilbo seems to relax at the scullery maid’s words, some looking so visibly relieved as to wipe their foreheads of sweat and mutter reassuring words to each other in Khuzdul.  Bombur though, was blanched so pale he was almost ghostly.

“What did ya say?”

“Oh!” Bilbo flailed, memories suddenly rushing back. That was right! He was in the Mountain visiting Reginard and Ori, when Master Flar pulled him aside and fired him because he was engaged to _King_ Thorin! Not only had Bilbo been fired, a first for a hobbit and a horrible humiliation, but he’d just found out that his dwarf suitor was keeping a big secret from him. A really _big_ secret. A secret that came with a crown and throne!

“Mister Baggins!” Bombur tried to keep him lying down and the stable lad had a good tight hold on his legs, but Bilbo was able to kick free and sit up with a weak snarl.

“ _King Thorin_ ,” Bilbo seethed. If his head wasn’t pounding something awful he’d storm the whole kingdom until he found the dratted dwarf and pushed him from the inner keep. It would be no less than Thorin deserved.

“N-now Mister Baggins,” Bombur said quickly, trying to lay a soothing hand against Bilbo’s back. The hobbit hissed, flinching back with a betrayed look at the dwarf.

“You knew.”

“W-well, only j-just recently ya see,” Bombur said, leaning back from Bilbo like the hobbit was about to lunge at him and claw his eyes out. “Bofur tried to say something, but we were f-forbidden.”

Bilbo glared. He didn’t know what he felt more offended by; the fact that Thorin lied and then forced the other’s to cover for him or the fact that none but Bofur was willing to risk the dwarf King’s wrath by telling Bilbo the truth. It showed him where the dwarves true loyalty laid. Had they all been laughing at his ignorance this whole time? Snickering behind his back at the foolish hobbit who didn’t even know who was courting him!

“I don’t understand? If Master Baggins isn’t pregnant, why did he faint?” Flar looked between the two, clear confusion on his face. Flor, seeing that Bilbo appeared to be fine now, grunted to her feet and then set off for the scullery without a backward glance. She seemed to not care about the drama unfolding on the kitchen floors now that bodies weren’t lying about.

Bilbo got shakily to his feet also, his head swimming at the quick vertical rise. He rudely shook off Loni’s help when she rushed forward to assist him. “Master Flar, maybe you should have Master Bombur explain, since I’m no longer working here and therefore not welcome.”

Flar gaped, “I-I didn’t mean--”

Bilbo held up a hand to stop the dwarf. “I know, and I see now what you meant by my presence being a disturbance here. I will head back to the Shire, alone please, where my company is truly appreciated and my friends more honest.”

Miss Loni, her makeup smeared from her crying, hiccupped into her hands. Bombur looked like someone had bowled him over and then told him he wouldn’t be able to eat for a week. Master Flar looked so paniced and confused that Bilbo felt a bit bad about heaping all the problems that were going to come from this incident onto the dwarf’s shoulders. Bilbo had been his apprentice for weeks and the dwarf had been nothing but kind to him, but the hobbit felt so betrayed by Thorin and his friends that he was angry at every dwarf in the Mountain as a consequence. He couldn’t deal with their hurt emotions because he hadn’t unraveled his own yet.

They all watched silently as Bilbo stumbled down the hallway to the exit, and right after the hobbit turned the corner there was a loud roar as they all started talking at once. Bilbo sighed, leaning heavily against the wall and the cool rock eased his aching head. The ache in his heart was another matter.

***

Bilbo didn’t remember much of his journey to Bag End. Much like that time when Thorin had yelled at him in the library, the dazed and humiliated hobbit had staggered home mechanically and with little thought to those who passed him on the pathways. Blurry faces traveled past his vision, but if he really saw those people or if it was just his imagination drawing up memories, he would never know. Past encounters with Thorin were replaying over and over again in his mind, conversations that hadn’t made sense before suddenly did and odd behaviors around dwarves abruptly were understandable. They’d all known, or most of them, probably from the very beginning who Thorin was and they’d all kept it from him.

Why?       

Was it for a laugh? Did they not trust him with the knowledge? Was it all another joke? He could see the Company playing a prank like this on him, but he never would have expected it from Thorin. Had any of their interactions been sincere? Were Thorin’s words and feelings all a lie also?

When Hamfast’s smiling visage came into view, Bilbo suddenly found himself back in real time. He blinked at the bright light of the midday sun, like he was startled into a beautiful dream with the cool breeze coming off the Mountain, the birds singing in the trees, and even the giggling laughter of hobbit children running around the cul-de-sac in a game of tag. It was like he’d been sleepwalking from a terrible nightmare and the Shire was a safe haven from his dreadful thoughts.

“You okay there Mister Baggins? Don’t you have work about this time of day?” The other hobbit leaned against his pitchfork, sweat dotting his brow from his yard work.

“No,” Bilbo said in a daze. “I was fired.”

Hamfast dropped his gardening utensil in shock. “What!”

“They said I couldn’t work there, because Thorin was _King_ and it would be unseemly.”

The other hobbit sputtered, his face turning a red so deep it was almost purple. “He’s what, I-- I sat next to, oh Eru, Mister Thorin’s King? Are you sure? We didn’t give him a proper greeting or nothing!”

Bilbo nodded, trying awkwardly to unlock his gate but he just couldn’t get a grip on the silver hook.

“I don’t understand!” Hamfast cried out, waving his arms in the air. “How could you not tell me? Not that you’re required to Mister Baggins, but it’s only polite to tell your neighbors this kind of thing. We would have had a suitable ceremony and things, and--and he’s courting you!”

“He is,” Bilbo choked. “Was. I don’t know anymore. I, I just found out…”

 Hamfast must have seen the distress on Bilbo’s face. “Did--did you not know he’s a King?”

“No. I didn’t.” Bilbo paused, looking up and staring off into the distance. Thorin… King? It just didn’t add up, he could barely reconcile it in his mind, but the proof was in the facts. Master Flar had said it, Bombur had practically confirmed it, and every little odd secret covered for it. Thorin himself had admitted to it in a sly way, saying he was an unknown noble with two nephews. Goodness, Bilbo felt daft for not making the connections earlier.

“Wait,” the other hobbit flailed, rushing forward to help Bilbo into his home. “You didn’t know either! B-but he’s not someone--”

Bilbo frowned, his teeth grinding so hard against each other his cheeks went numb. “He’s someone all right! A liar and a fraud, and he is no longer welcome to Bag End. King or not, I will not tolerate being the butt of someone’s joke.”

“Oh Mister Baggins,” Hamfast gasped, helping Bilbo out of his jacket. “You don’t mean that. He didn’t look the sort to play a horrible joke like that?”

“How would you know! Are you in cahoots with him also?” Stomping to his sitting room and swiping up his pipe, Bilbo filled the wooden bowl with as much of the best pipe-weed he had at hand. His hands shaking so bad that some of the Old Toby sprinkled to the floor, but he ignored it. After a few puffs his temper seemed to settle and his hands only trembled a little.

“I’m sorry Mister Gamgee, I don’t mean to take my anger out on you.”

Hamfast shuffled his feet, watching Bilbo from the safety of the doorway. “I know. I guess I can see why you’d be mad. Not knowing he’s a King and all.”

“A King,” Bilbo scoffed. Trying to reconcile the dwarf he knew to the King one would expected. He’d always imagined the dwarf King to be some old, wise dwarf with a regal stature and sensible mind for ruling, a great warrior but also diplomatic towards the other races. Thorin was pretty much the opposite of that. “A King of fools I’ll say.”

Creeping forward, Hamfast made sure Bilbo had access to more pipe-weed by holding the barrel up so he could stuff his pipe as fast and he smoked it. “Well, he does have a royal bearing to him, when I last saw him. My lady Bell was most taken with him, said he was very handsome for a dwarf, though a bit loud when angry.”

“He does,” Bilbo conceded agreeably. Thorin was very stately when he was unaware of it, but he was also the biggest dunderhead Bilbo had ever had the misfortune to meet. “Why was he not honest with me though?” Bilbo asked pitifully.

Hamfast shrugged. “I dunno. You’ll have to ask him, I imagine.”

Grumbling, Bilbo pushed the barrel of pipe-weed away and finished up the tobacco he was smoking. It wouldn’t do to use all of the best stuff before he even dealt with Thorin, if the coward even bothered to confront Bilbo know that he knew. He imagined the others had rushed off to inform the _King_ that his little secret had gotten out as soon as Bilbo had left the Mountain.  

“I’m sorry Gamgee, this is not your problem and I’m unloading all my woes on you.”

“It’s fine,” Hamfast said, reassuring. “What are friends for it not to hear another’s problems? You were there when the river overflowed and drowned my crops that season. We wouldn’t have been able to pay tithe if you hadn’t of loaned me that money. So me and my Bell have always sworn we’d be here if you ever needed us to be.” 

Bilbo pulled Hamfast into a hug before he could even think about it. With the kindness of the friends he had here, surely he didn’t need any others than the ones he had in the Shire? A hobbit was very unlikely to hide such a thing like a royal title. “Thank you.”

“Tis a shame about that dwarf,” the other hobbit muttered against Bilbo’s shoulder. “I admit finding out Mister Thorin’s a King is a shock, but there are worse things he could be.”

Pulling back, Bilbo gave Hamfast a firm look. “Don’t try to make me feel sorry for him. I know you want him to make those garden tools from you, but being a King means he’d hardly have the time to make them.”

Eye’s wide, Hamfast shook his head. “Oh no, Mister Baggins! I don’t mean it like that, it’s just you were so taken with him, and he you. I hadn’t seen anyone so googly-eyed for another since my uncle Halfred met his wife, and you remember what a fool he made himself out to be that summer trying to impress her.”

“Yes, well,” Bilbo sniffed, turning away so Hamfast didn’t see his smile. He’d admit now that Thorin didn’t seem the evil type to lie about his feelings. The dwarf was too proud and stubborn to deceive someone for that long or that deeply. But the hobbit still refused to let Thorin off that easily, he still needed to explain why he’d keep something this important away from Bilbo.

“Shame for sure, about him lying to you.” Hamfast nodded, holding onto his suspenders. “Maybe he has a good reason for it, you think?”

“He better,” Bilbo growled, tossing himself back into his chair.

“I’m sure he does,” Hamfast agreed quickly. “Why, imagine him walking around without a guard and such, being the King. You think he gets assassination attempts on his life, like they do the stories? I read the King’s are always trying to be killed when someone else wants the throne. I imagine he’s just keeping the secret for his safely. I bet they hardly let him out of the Mountain because of them people trying to murder him.”

Bilbo hummed, thinking about what the other hobbit was saying. It did make sense in some ways, but surely Bilbo had proved he was harmless by now. At most, only Thorin’s virtue was at risk around Bilbo and mostly because of the dwarf himself! “I’m sure. The only assassination attempts he’s going to have to worry about for a long while will be from me.”

Hamfast tutted, making sure Bilbo was comfortable in his chair and setting a throw blanket on the hobbit’s legs. “Now, none of that, Mister Baggins. We hobbits don’t talk like that. Mister Thorin will apologize, you’ll see.

Like the kind friend and neighbor he was, Hamfast Gamgee set the kettle on the stove before he went about cleaning up the mess the other hobbit had caused storming into his own home. Hamfast probably knew if there were to be royal visitors later that Bilbo would be embarrassed to have a messy house. He appreciated the kindness, especially since his head still hurt.

“You don’t have to do this. I just need to rest a while. The long day has gotten to me.”

“I know it has,” Hamfast said simply. “That’s why I’m helping you. Ain’t no shame in leaning on others when you need to.” He handed over a cup of warm chamomile mint tea and a plate of biscuits. 

Bilbo smiled up at the round hobbit, truly thankful to have him as his friend. “Thank you.”

The two sat for a while enjoying their tea and biscuits, deliberately not talking any more about Thorin or the dwarf’s newfound fancy title, even though it was obvious they were waiting for the dwarf in question to show up to explain himself. Instead Bilbo glowered at a corner in the room, mind swirling with accusations and righteous fury over the whole situation. He kept coming up with more questions though about why this was all happening, angry at the position Thorin had put him in. Sometimes Hamfast would smoother a giggle in his hands, but he refused to say why and Bilbo was left wondering what about the situation others might find funny. Those thoughts didn’t help his sour mood and in fact worsened it so much that he was eyeing the fire iron with a steely look when someone started knocking on the door. 

Hamfast hopped to his feet. “You stay there Mister Baggins, I’ll get it.”

Bilbo, very calmly, took a sip of tea.

“Miste- Your majesty!” Hamfast squeaked. There was a lot of shuffling from down the hall, but Bilbo resolutely refused to turn around and watch. He just sat there serenely sipping his tea and nibbling on his biscuits like it was any other night alone in Bag End and a dwarf King hadn’t just stepped into his comfortable smial.

“Bilbo?” Thorin’s deep voice asked from the entrance, smooth and calm like the whole debacle he’d put Bilbo through hadn’t happened. Bilbo frowned. He hadn’t known he wanted Thorin to be worried until that moment, and now that he knew the dwarf wasn’t it made him irritated.

“Down the hall,” the other hobbit answered. “Um, Mister dwarf-guard-sir, if you’ll just wait--”

“Dwalin stay,” Thorin ordered, and only then did Bilbo hear the extra set of shoes against his hardwood floors. The dwarves had better hope they didn’t track mud inside or they would be getting more than an ear full from Bilbo.

“Why don’t we see what’s in the pantry,” Hamfast said diplomatically, kind enough to head to the opposite side of the hobbit hole, probably so they wouldn’t accidently eavesdrop.

“Do you think there are any cookies left?” Dwalin asked, voice rough but surprisingly eager.

The other hobbit laughed nervously and their voiced drifted off down the hall until it was a distant mummer. Bilbo sat still, tea cup in hand and feet resting on the foot stool, resolute in his disregard for the dwarf King creeping up behind him.

“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed, his voice barely over a whisper.

Setting his cup of tea aside and folding up his blanket, Bilbo got to his feet slowly. Thorin by then was in front of him, face blank and body tense. He didn’t know what the dwarf was expecting him to do, yell, fight, rage against him in a heated fury. He would have deserved it. But Thorin held his head up tall, almost looming over the small hobbit as if he would not yield to Bilbo’s reasonable wrath.

“Your Majesty.” Bilbo curtsied, exaggerating the movement as much as he could even though his head throbbed at the temples. The pain came either from the injury or from actually facing Thorin, he just couldn’t discern.

“Bilbo…” Thorin sighed, closing his eyes tightly. “I didn’t…”

Bilbo, still halfway kneeling, looked at the dwarf from under the fringe of his hair. “Yes, your Highness?”

“Don’t.” Thorin’s stormy blue-grey eyes opened and he moved forward, hands outstretched as if to grab Bilbo by the arms.

“Don’t what my King?”

“Stop! Please.” Thorin finally breached that space between them and yanked the hobbit upright. “You are never to kneel to me. Never you.”

Bilbo hissed, trying to struggle away but the dwarf held him tight, pulling him closer until they were chest to chest.  Thorin’s scent thick and suffocating, Bilbo’s mind dizzy with the close proximity. “But I am only a lowly hobbit, and you a dwarf King. Surely it is the appropriate decorum to address someone by their proper title?”

“Yes, but--”

Bilbo interrupted, “And I know this was all a joke to you, having a laugh at the silly hobbit who didn’t even know the dwarf he had feelings for was a King.”

Thorin frowned. “Bilbo--”

“Furthermore, those he thought were his friends were all in on the secret, and the one dwarf who tried to tell me was punished.”

“Bofur wasn’t--”

“So you can see why I think it’s only proper for me to bow, seeing as you have outwitted me in every aspect and truly trounced any pride I had left. You are without doubt here to revel in your victory and see your opponent made a fool of once more.”

“Mahal’s hammer let me talk!” One of Thorin’s hands let go of his wrist to wrap around the back of the hobbit’s neck, forcing Bilbo to look up at the dwarf. “I did none of the things you accuse me of, nor have I come here to make a mockery of you. I have come to request your forgiveness, to seek a way to make amends for the dishonorable behavior I have reaped upon you. I never wanted you to find out this way!”

Bilbo took a large breath, his anger like a burning stone that settled in his stomach. He swallowed thickly, with his neck bent back it made the motion evident as Thorin watched his Adam’s apple bob. “You-- you would have told me on Durin’s day wouldn’t you?”

“I-- how did?” Thorin choked. Heavy brows furrowed as he gave Bilbo a confused look.

 “I heard from a dwarf, the day I traveled to Dale. They told me how the _King_ was going to present his intended to the dwarf kingdom. We’re you going to surprise me in public? Where my humiliation would be for all to see?”

“No!”

“Then tell me Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erebor, King under the Mountain, when exactly you were going to tell me of your prestigious title?”

Thorin finally released Bilbo, stumbling back as if the weight of the hobbit’s words had wounded him. He slumped back into his seat, the one he usually sat in on his visits. It probably wasn’t as comfortable as his throne, Bilbo thought sourly.

“I would have told you before,” Thorin said, looking somewhat haggard under Bilbo glare. “I admit I planned to leave off tell you for a while yet, but I would not have sprung something like that on you in a public event. I could not risk you reacting badly in front of…”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes, hands going to his hips. “You would not risk embarrassing yourself is what you mean.”

The dwarf’s wince was telling enough, though he didn’t confirm aloud what Bilbo accused him of. Something dark and heated flared up in him, and Bilbo seethed at the unfaithfulness. Thorin would not have done him that kindness because he wished to spare Bilbo. He’d done it to spare his own pride if Bilbo had objected publicly. At least he didn’t seek to hide the truth with sweet platitudes, Bilbo would never forgive Thorin if he tried.  

“Master Thorin,” Bilbo huffed and Thorin’s head snapped up to look at him. “Tell me why.”

“Why what?” Thorin looked imploringly up at him, and there was something to be said about a dwarf King beseeching him with his eyes, if not his lips, to a small Gentlehobbit of the Shire. It was a thrilling power, knowing what he said mattered to the dwarf.

“Why did you lie,” Bilbo said, resentment evident in his voice. It would not do to get completely angry without proper cause. Thorin had lied, but perhaps there was a reason for it. Could Hamfast’s theories of assassinations not be too far from the truth? Maybe there was some sort of cultural motive behind the deception?

“I… I did it for a selfish reason,” Thorin said slowly, looking down at his large, callused hands. “I never told you because I didn’t want you to interact with me as a King, or Prince, but as an everyday dwarf. You have to understand, no one treats me like you do except my family, and even then they are sometimes reserved. But you, you were honest and straightforward and refreshing right from the very beginning.”

“I threw an apple at your head and you call that refreshing?”

“And labeled me a thief,” Thorin smiled ruefully. “I was so fascinated with you. You called me sweet, and then a simpleton. I could not figure out if you even liked me, and for once I had to work to earn your affections. You weren’t nice to me, I didn’t deserve it until I earned it and when I did, it was like holding the Arkenstone in my hand. I felt more powerful and carefree than I’d ever felt before.”

“Oh, Thorin…” Bilbo felt his foundation crumbling, his built up anger washing away as the words of Thorin’s desires rushed over him. Bilbo was still irritated, upset by what was done to him, but he no longer felt like everything had been in jest towards him. It didn’t appear to be done with malicious intent, and that counted greatly in Thorin’s favor.

Thorin seemed to pick up that the hobbit wasn’t as irate as he was earlier and moved forward to hold Bilbo’s hand in his. “Please, I never meant any of this to harm you. In any way. I only want you to be happy, just like how you make me happy.”

Bilbo felt his finger twitch in Thorin’s heated grip, resisting the urge to curl his hand in the dwarf’s. “But why did you make everyone else keep it a secret? I feel like it was all a big joke, something for you to laugh about with the others behind my back.”

“Never!” Thorin shouted. “I never laughed. I only asked them to keep it secret because it was not their place to tell. I wanted to court you, like any other common dwarf, and I was afraid if you knew I was King you would expect extravagant gifts and only accept them because of my title.”

“You were not honest because you didn’t trust me to be honest?” Bilbo tried to slip away, but Thorin would not let him. The dwarf pulled the foot stool over with his ankle and levered Bilbo to sit on it, close to Thorin if he reached out.

“To be frank, yes.”

Bilbo glared, but didn’t try to yank his hands back.

“You have to understand, my position does not lead itself to many _honest_ friends, much less lovers. You did not appear at first to be the type who would deceive me, but I have met a few before you who were just as good actors. Friends when I was a lad who’s parents wanted titles they thought they could get through my friendship. Soldiers who thought my companionship would get them promotions. Maidens who wanted gold and jewels more than my heart. After a while I began to think so you were sincere, but I wanted to be cautious, so I still sought your affections even as I misled you.”

Tears blurring his vision, Bilbo felt his whole body start to tremble. “How could you think that I am like that? I am a hobbit, not some fraud that’s after gold or a title. Hobbits only seek happiness with our family and good cheer among our friends, along with a full pantry. I just-- I just wanted you! And you made my feelings for you a joke when you deceived me about who you were.”

“No, Bilbo, it’s not a lie,” Thorin said quickly, thumbs brushing at the hobbit’s eyelashes, catching the tears as they fell.

“It is,” Bilbo insisted. “There is no dwarf guard I fell in love with, only a King who invented a character who doesn’t exist.”

Thorin sucked in a breath, looking as if Bilbo had stuck him with a hard blow. He quickly dug into his pockets, pulling out a simple embroidered handkerchief the last of which Bilbo saw stained half red with soup, now completely white except for the colorful flower stitching. “Look, I kept this. Was the person you gave this to an imaginary character?”

Bilbo rubbed the heel of his palm against his cheeks, knowing they were flush red from crying. “Why did you keep that, it was dirty.”

“I could care less if it was all but threads. I treasure everything you give me, even if it holds no value to any other. Even when you make me want to throttle you, somehow you still make me prize every moment between us, every exchange. I know I lied and I will attend to my punishment in a moment, but you must never think that anything we had was not real. Promise me.”

“B-but--”

“Promise, you will never think that you are not my One!”

“One what?” Bilbo squeaked, gaping at Thorin. The dwarf growled, pulling a small knife from his belt. Lifting his own chin up Thorin put the sharp edge against his neck, and Bilbo was so frightened he started to cry again. Never in all of Middle-Earth had he thought that Thorin would take things to this extreme as to redeem himself.

“Thorin!” Bilbo cried out, hoping his voice would carry down the hallway and Dwalin might come running.

Holding completely still, even as Bilbo reached for his arms to stop him, Thorin grabbed one end of his beard and with the other hand on his knife, switched the sharp edge towards the outside and quickly cut the braided beard from his chin. Bilbo gasped, not quite believing what had just happened. He felt like he was about to faint again.

“Here, as my word dictates. I wronged you once again and my beard is payment for that offence.”

The clump of hair was tossed into Bilbo’s lap, the beads and jeweled tie keeping the hairs from slipping their plait. Bilbo stared blankly at the black mass of hair, tears flowing freely from his eyes and snot running down his chin. His heart felt like it was thumping as fast as a rabbits, beating so rapidly he couldn’t catch his breath.

“I--I….” Bilbo could hardly talk from the lump stuck in his throat. Thorin quickly seethed his knife back into his belt and pulled Bilbo into his arms. The hobbit buried his face against the dwarf’s robes, his mother’s old handkerchief fisted in his hands as the tears flowed once again. He hadn’t meant for things to get this far out of hand, though he did want Thorin to pay for his betrayal, he hadn’t expected this.

“I have dishonored you, and so I have dishonored myself.” Thorin pulled the handkerchief free to wipe at Bilbo’s damp face, voice rough and deep against the hobbit’s temple. “Now all will see my shame.”

Dwalin peeked his head around the corner, “Everything okay in here… Thorin?”

“Everything is fine my friend,” Thorin said coolly, ignoring the incredulous looks the other dwarf was throwing him. “Go back to keeping Mister Gamgee company, I am not done talking with Mister Baggins.”

“Right,” Dwalin said, wincing when he caught site of the short stubble on the dwarf King’s chin.

It took a long while for Bilbo to calm down enough that he no longer felt like bursting into tears every time he thought about what happened. He was so upset, not only by Thorin cutting his beard, but because of the whole mess in general. If Thorin had just been honest from the beginning, there wouldn’t have been any misunderstandings or secrets between them at all. They could have happily gone on blissfully into their friendship and eventual courtship without these nasty bumps and deviations, sincere in their feelings towards one another. It would be months, maybe years, before Thorin’s beard grew out and they could put this incident behind them.

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo moaned against Thorin’s neck, unsure what exactly he was apologizing for. His tears finished and his face dry, Bilbo hated crying. In a way though, it was a relief. Thorin had apologized and Bilbo no longer felt deceived, though his heart ached still with the lingering memories.

“Don’t,” Thorin said gently. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Your beard though,” Bilbo muttered, drawing back to run his fingers down the jaw of his dwarf. It didn’t look bad, now that he could see it without being dismayed, it was just odd that it was now so short. It even made the resemblance between him and Kili even more apparent.

Wrapping his arms tightly around Bilbo’s waist, Thorin leaned his forehead against the hobbit’s. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

“You shouldn’t have to--”

Thorin pulled back enough to give the hobbit a defiant stare. “I did.”

Bilbo exhaled, “And I still am upset.”

“I know,” Thorin sighed, looking sad.

“Things are going to change,” Bilbo said, tired now that he’d cried so much. Now he just wanted to sleep, and maybe wake tomorrow to a better day with all this behind him. “Thing will be different.”

“I know,” the dwarf repeated.

Bilbo’s hands trembled as he held onto Thorin’s shoulders, looking up to meet the dwarf’s blue-grey eyes. “I was in love once, with a noble dwarf guard. I do not know if I can feel the same for a King.”

Thorin gritted his teeth together and nodded, brows furrowed as he closed his eyes in some imagined pain. “I… I understand.”

“I will try though,” Bilbo promised, urging Thorin to look up again. “Their nature might be the same, but the circumstances are different now. Being by your side is a big responsibility and if we wed, I would have to leave Bag End and join you in the Mountain.” 

With a crooked smile, Thorin bumped their heads gently together. “Yes. You would be the King’s Consort, my greatest treasure in Erebor.”

“Don’t,” Bilbo said, pressing his finger against Thorin’s mouth. “Don’t say things like that, don’t try to sweet talk me into agreeing. I love Bag End, I love the Shire, and I would hate to leave it. I had once thought we could live here together, after, but now I know it cannot be. You have a duty to your people and you cannot leave them for my sake.”

“No, I cannot,” Thorin agreed, lips dry against Bilbo’s touch.

“I need to think,” Bilbo pleaded, “I need time, to consider things.”

“Okay.”

Bilbo pulled his hand back and let the dwarf tug him forward so he could kiss his cheek. Bilbo whispered, “I don’t, I don’t hate you. Please, don’t think this means things are over. I need time.”

“I promise, I will not bother you until you decide where you want to go from here. I will wait for you however long you wish.” Thorin breathed heavily, chest rising under Bilbo’s hands. The thick fur of his cloak smelled musky and the vivid blue of wool clothes grounded Bilbo in Thorin’s presence, the familiarity of it. King or not, this was Bilbo’s dwarf. The same dwarf who’d stolen his pipe-weed and complimented his cooking. There would be some trying times ahead of them, but together they might be able to weather them.

“Thank you,” Bilbo sighed, nuzzling against the open collar of Thorin’s shirt. They held each other for a long time, until Dwalin called that it was time for them to leave.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can take the mpreg mention as serious or not. I left it vague for those who might be uncomfortable about it, that way it could be explained that maybe dwarf’s don’t know much about hobbits and are assuming here. I’m sure one or two dwarves even think Bilbo’s a woman because of his lack of a beard. Or if you want, maybe that mpreg is possible with dwarves, or both races. Up to the reader!  
> I tried to make the confrontation as realistic as possible. From the arguments I’ve had, or witness, it all seems to be a big mess of angry confusion, accusations, and apologies. People mixing up who’s really in the wrong and what not, taking blame for things they had no control over. Hopefully, this satisfied everyone, some of you asked for Bilbo to hold a grudge and the other half wanted a quick apology so we could go back to all the happy times. I thought a mix of both was a good even ground to settle on. Not everything is fixed, but the main problems are explained now.


	15. Mending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Bilbo takes his time to think about things, Lobelia takes over, and a couple of dwarves stop by.

***

Sleeping in wasn’t something Bilbo normally indulged in, but he thought today he deserved it. He awoke long after the sun had risen and missed both first and second breakfast, however his head was no longer sore and his body felt rejuvenated. So stomach growling, he wandered into his kitchen for food.

As he prepared himself a veritable feast for elevenses, he thought about yesterday. Finding out Thorin was a King, _the King_ , was a big deal. He’d reconciled with himself that he still loved the dwarf, though Thorin had originally lied about whom he was, being in love with someone that important was still a big deal. Bilbo assumed if they did marry, he’d become the King’s Consort, only he didn’t know what exactly that entitled. He didn’t remember anything in the book about what the duties were of such a person, or what it meant marrying into a royal family. He was just a simple Gentlehobbit, not made for grand adventures like marrying the King of Erebor.

_Thorin was King._ Bilbo hadn’t a clue what the duties of a King entitled besides the basics. The Shire was run by an elected Mayor, and there was also the Thain, along with a small counsel to help with any disputes. He didn’t know the first thing to running a Kingdom, he could barely keep up with his own household.

From what little he got from stories and gossip around the Mountain, he guessed that Thorin’s responsibilities were widespread. He could estimate Thorin would be, was, the governing authority, seeing how the dwarves all conform under the rule of the monarchy, and there were diplomatic duties in regards to other Kingdoms that the dwarf had to see to (Suddenly, Thorin displeasure towards the dwarves made a bit more sense now, even if it wasn’t smart). Thorin could declare and go to war if the need arose, and he’d make peace and political contracts when the time came for them. The very lives of the dwarf people seemed to be under the whim of the dwarf King, Thorin. How Thorin could handle that responsibility was beyond Bilbo?

In the stories he read, Bilbo had never heard much about the spouse of the King. Usually there were mentions of a Queen or Consort, whose main duties seemed to be birthing heirs and calming the King when he was in a snit. If they were unlucky, they were regulated to a footnote or a pretty bauble to sit next to the throne. No one actually wrote about what their duties were, what these royal members did in their spare time besides plan balls or sit quietly regal in hard circumstances. It seemed that after one married a King, they no longer did many things of importance?

Another problem was that Erebor hadn’t had a Queen since before Bilbo was born, so there was no one for him to go to for advice. He’d be hard press to talk to Thorin about it either, being it was his mother who’d passed.

Bilbo believed he was an uncomplicated soul at heart, and hobbits generally didn’t like to be put in a messy position to over exert or stress themselves. By most rights, Bilbo himself was a noble by some standards, but being a Gentlehobbit was extremely different from being a King’s Consort. There would be no quiet moments in his garden or a whole day just spent in front of the fire reading a book, which was a proper pastime for someone of his standing in the Shire whenever he felt like it. To be with Thorin meant his moves would be under watch and his behavior scrutinized at all times. Take for example that he’d been fired from his position as a pastry chef because they thought it was unseemly for someone _courting_ the King to be working with the lowly staff. Bilbo liked the simple joys of life and to some that might be considered too common.

Bag End was another thing to contend with.  While the Shire generally wasn’t a very far distance from Erebor at all, marriage would still mean that his main residence would have to change. The hobbit was very dedicated to his smial, it was home. There was a saying around the Shire that said not to make your home where your feet tread, but where your heart rested. Meaning that if Bilbo really loved Thorin it wouldn’t matter where they lived as long as they were together, but to give up Bag End was something Bilbo could hardly imagine. Bag End was the last he had of his parents, their legacy to him. His best hope was that he could still keep the comfortable hobbit hole and visit every once in a while, though he’d be disappointed not to return to it every night.

There were still many other things to think about in regards to the new circumstances Thorin had put him in, some he might not have even thought about yet. The humble future Bilbo had imagined with his dwarf was slowly crumbling under the weight of the real responsibilities he would take on if he did marry Thorin. He wanted to research and maybe speak to someone with knowledge of the obligations he’d have if he did accept Thorin’s offer.

After filling his tummy with food, Bilbo took a long hot bath in his large copper tub. After all the accident’s he’d been in and injuries he’d received, it was nice just to lay back and soak his aches. He cataloged his bruises, the small cuts on his wrist, and the burn he’d gotten on his elbow from a greasy frying pan in the kitchen two days ago. He felt very much like a warrior, for even when he was a child he’d never appeared this mangled before. Wondering if this was just one of those things that came with being friends with dwarves or just the run of the mill bad luck, Bilbo scrubbed clean and conditioned his hairy feet. The bathing oils felt delightful on his dry skin and Óin’s ointments help with any leftover pains.    

Bath finished, Bilbo didn’t bother much with getting dressed. He just left his shift and robe on and wandered the house doing whatever came to mind. He read a bit, mostly the books he’d received from Thorin, and even worked on some things in the study, practicing his lettering and writing. He did nothing strenuous but think. And he thought long and hard about his predicament. Bilbo reflected and he considered all the good and bad there would be to Thorin continuing his suit. There were moments where he contemplated getting dressed and seeing Reginard again, but decided against it at the last minute, wanting his final decision to be something he decided for himself.

 

 

Bilbo went to bed that night a bit dazed by the whole tranquil and amicable day, aware that there was still judgments to make and many things to think about, but he’d come to a sort of conclusion. After the sun had long set, and Bilbo had compiled a list of advantages and disadvantages of marriage to Thorin, it came to a very important simple fact. With the words Reginard had asked him, could he see himself in the future without Thorin? Could he go back to his humble life at Bag End, knowing that Thorin was in Erebor alone without him?

The natural truth was, no.   

He’d risk a hard and bothersome life of a King’s Consort, as long as Thorin was there beside him. Both his Baggins side and Took side appeared to be happy with his decision. Bilbo would learn, and he’d try his best to give them what the people of the Mountain needed from him, what Thorin needed him to be. He could be adventurous enough to marry a dwarf King as the Took side demanded, and the settled life of marriage would help appease his Baggins side.

Bilbo’s sleep was a bit easier that night, the strain of that major decision no longer weighing him down. Thorin and he could work on everything else, the dwarf wasn’t an unreasonable sort to deny the things he’s ask for. Bilbo would try his hardest to keep Bag End, it was where his family lived, where he grew up and experienced life, and best of all where he met Thorin. If nothing else, that would persuade the Dwarf they should keep the smial.    

***

The next morning Bilbo awoke to a grey clouded day. There was a chilly wind from the east that meant winter was fast approaching, so the hobbit dressed warmly and ventured out of his home. As he was closing his door he noticed something and paused. There was a sign, nailed to his door.

“What’s this then?” Bilbo asked, frowning because the paint on his door was fairly new and now the wood was damaged from the hammering. He pulled the note off and stared at the gibberish written on it.

“Say’s ‘Do Not Disturb’ in Cirth,” Hamfast answered, who Bilbo didn’t notice until right then and continued his gardening from the other side of the fence.

Bilbo eyed the other hobbit with suspicion, unaware that Hamfast could read dwarvish runes. “How would you know?”

“Mister Dwalin told me so.” Hamfast sighed, smiling to himself until a gust of wind unsettled his hat. “Came by early yesterday morning to hang that and scared off a few other dwarves that wandered by. Told me Mister Thorin promised you some time alone and he didn’t want anyone a bother you.”

“Dwalin?” Bilbo blinked, he wasn’t even aware anyone had wanted to stop by, nor had he heard anybody hammering on his door. It’d been so peaceful and quiet yesterday he’d almost felt like he’d been forgotten.

“Lovely fellow, big strong arms. Bet he’s good with a posthole digger. You think he’d help me with the fences come spring? ” Hamfast said, mostly to himself with a dreamy expression. Then he suddenly seemed to remember that Bilbo was staring at him with an incredulous expression and he blushed. “Oh, he promised me a set of new gardening tools if I kept the hobbit half from bothering you.”

“You cheat,” Bilbo smiled, sharing a laugh with his neighbor. “Thorin wouldn’t make you any so you asked Dwalin? I wouldn’t have expected visitors without them sending letters first and Dwalin wouldn’t have known that. I think you got the better end of that deal.”

“Not so, little Mister Porto stopped by, wanted to show you a toad he found in the creek I believe,” Hamfast sniffed, smothering a smile. 

Rolling his eyes, Bilbo buttoned his jacket and eyed the sky. He didn’t like the look of those rainclouds over Mirkwood. “You think it will rain later?”

Hamfast paused in his work to look in the direction Bilbo was eyeing. “About evening time maybe.”

“Then I best be going,” Bilbo said. “I want to visit the market for some things before the weather gets bad.”

“You be careful now, words gotten around about what happened!”

Bilbo froze, blinking wildly. “What?”

Hamfast waved off the other hobbit’s worry. “About you being fired, not the other thing. Caused a bit of a stir in town and I think the others have been a keen help to keeping the dwarves away. I think there might be a revolt if another one comes by asking for you.”

“Why of Middle-Earth…” Bilbo started and then sighed. He should have known something like this would happen. Hobbits don’t take to kindly to others if their hobbies were called into question. The hobbits most likely thought Bilbo had been fired because the dwarves didn’t like his cooking or thought it lacking in some way. He felt sorry for any dwarf who wandering into town if the hobbits were in a temper, they took great pride in their cooking techniques. “Thanks Mister Gamgee, I’ll see about settling things.”

“Sure thing. You should also think about stocking up the pantry, Mister Dwalin made a mighty dent in it the other day and you’re running low on eggs.”

Bilbo had noticed. Most of his sweets and sugars had disappeared and a whole cheese wheel was missing.  “Thanks again!”

The walk to the Shire market was peaceful, even if the wind sent a chill up his leg hairs. The weather wasn’t too bad and the children still ran around, only in cloaks and wool jackets instead of the usual shirt and trousers. There was a lot less adults outside gardening though, most were sitting under the overhangs of their porches and smoking pipe-weed. They called out and waved as Bilbo passed. He stopped to talk for a moment, to explain that his release from the Mountain was a misunderstanding and things would be settled soon enough. One hobbit swore he’d never buy dwarf made tools in mutiny of Bilbo’s firing and Bilbo was informed that Gerda Boffin had quit her job as a potter in protest. Crying off that all the spiteful intent toward the dwarves was not necessary, Mister Baggins hurried to the market before he was informed all of the other pointless objectives the hobbits had done in his homage. He’d never known he was this well liked in town!      

Bilbo spent as much time in the market shopping as he did reassuring the hobbits about his now unemployment. The only good that came from others knowing about him being fired was that he received wares at a discounted price and his basket was nearly overflowing by the time he headed back to Bag End. The butcher even promised to send a goose up later in the evening after Bilbo bought some spiced ham for a delicious dinner later in the week.

“Mister Baggins!”

Pausing with his heavy load wasn’t ideal, but he’d had little choice when Lobelia Bracegirdle was storming up the path towards him.

“Miss Lobelia,” Bilbo sighed. It had been enough dealing with the others, but now he had to handle the irate hobbit lass too?

“What’s this I hear about you disgracing hobbits everywhere and getting yourself fired?”

Bilbo set the basket at his feet and put his hands on his hips. He wasn’t going to take a scolding like some child running through the mud. “I did no such thing. I was let go, for personal reasons.”

“ _Personal reasons_ ,” Lobelia huffed, her layered skirts twisting around her ankles. She was rather done up today considering the weather, in bright pinks and pale yellows, her hair pulled into a intricate design with flowers about her ears. If Bilbo wasn’t feeling so mulish about having to explain himself over and over again, he’d compliment her on how pretty she looked today.   

“Yes, personal reasons and I won’t have you butting your nose in where it doesn’t belong. It’s my problem to deal with!”

Head held up high, the hobbit lass sashayed towards him. “Fine, keep your secrets. But since you no longer work for those horrid dwarves, I’m enlisting your help with my wedding preparations.”

“What!”

“Come on, let’s drop off your groceries and then you’re coming with me to the bakers. I want to check on the second cake I’m having made for Otho.”

Bilbo sputtered and Lobelia poked him with her umbrella. “Times wasting, chop chop.”

“Now see here,” Bilbo tried to say but he was forced to pick up his basket or trip over it as he was hustled down the track to Bag End with a hobbit lass wielding a sharp point at him. Hamfast had a stormy expression when he saw them hobbling up the road, frowning disapprovingly at Lobelia and her umbrella.

“Need help scaring off the riff raff, Mister Baggins?”

Lobelia scoffed and let herself into Bag End rather presumptuously. The two male hobbits watched her with weary expressions.

“She’s in a mood,” Hamfast said, scowling. “You don’t need that type of trouble.”

“Its fine,” Bilbo reassured his neighbor. “Not like I have much else to do now that I’m not working and the party will be soon. Only a few days before the weddings and she’s probably too stressed about her own problems to bother with mine.”  

 Hamfast wagged his dirty trowel at the other hobbit. “Whatever you do, don’t tell her about Mister Thorin. She’ll get into a right snit if you do and none of us will hear the end of it.”

Laughing, Bilbo nodded and lugged his shopping inside. Lobelia had made herself at home in Bilbo’s study and a spike of worry shot through the hobbit that he’d left his notes about Thorin in there. It took him a moment to remember he’d left them in the bedroom, somewhere hopefully the other hobbit wouldn’t wander.

“Sorry Lobelia, let me put this where it belongs and we’ll go.”

The other hobbit made a gesture with her hand, but Bilbo was too far down the hall to see and it was likely insulting anyhow. He put all the stock and provisions where they belonged, taking his time in defiance to Lobelia’s rushing. Then he found out the draw backs to making Lobelia Bracegirdle wait.

“Oi! Put those down!”

Lobelia ignored him, running her fingers down the smooth wood handles of the garden tools Thorin had made him. She tested the weight like one might a sword and even bit the metal end to check the quality.

“Good stuff. Who made them and why are they sitting in your living room and not the garden shed?”

“My dwarf… friend made them,” Bilbo growled, grabbing the tool from the other hobbit’s hand and stashing it back into its box. He was very thankful Thorin’s gold puzzle box and the dagger he’d had commissioned were also in his room. The puzzle box he’d taken to worKing on every night before bed or in the afternoons when there wasn’t much to do. He’d at least found the first couple of tricks to getting the thing open, though there seemed to be a long way to go.

“Come on, let’s go see your baker before the rain hits.” This time Bilbo was the one to herd them out, pushing the lass out the door so quickly she squeaked when a gust of wind almost took her umbrella away. Bilbo thought it would have been good riddance, the way she liked to poke people with it.

“So rude,” Lobelia scolded. “I was just admiring the craftsmanship. You know as family you’re supposed to gift the bride and groom on the wedding day. Have you bought something already?”

Bilbo knew she thought she was being sly, trying to ask in some way if the tools were for her and Otho, and if not that they could be. But there was no way he would be parting with Thorin’s courting gift, he’d doubt he’d give them back to _Thorin_ if the dwarf asked for them. “I did and if you think I can’t find a better hiding spot than my coffee table then I’m deeply insulted.”

“Bilbo,” Lobelia whined, and it was like they were children again, the hobbit child griping about having to wear a dress when she wanted to climb trees, begging to borrow Bilbo’s spare trousers. The memory made him smile. He missed that small lass, the one who wanted to be a hero and play in the dirt. Now Lobelia was caught up in the latest fashions and having one up on everybody else.  

“You’ll like the gift I’ve gotten, I promise you that,” Bilbo said, walking beside the other hobbit as they headed back into town. Less people called out to Bilbo once they saw who he had at his side, so there was one advantage to the frivolous errand.

Lobelia perked up, “Really? Will it make Lily Brown jealous that I have it and she doesn’t?”

Bilbo floundered, unsure for once. He didn’t quite understand the odd competition that Lobelia and Lily had, he’d always assumed they were good friends until he was told otherwise. They behaved perfectly normal and friendly to each other until one of the other’s back was turned, and then they were spiteful and green-eyed. “Um, well, I have no idea? What types of things would make Miss Brown envious?”

“Lots,” Lobelia smirked, “I trust your judgment in this future cousin-in-law, you Baggins aren’t known to scrimp when it comes to gift giving, unlike those Cotton’s. I want to see her breathe fire like a dragon in a jealous rage when I open my presents.”

Laughing nervously, Bilbo let the other hobbit pass in front of him as they entered the baker. Already Mister Banks was waiting for them, a sample setting of tiny cakes ready for them to try. Bilbo’s job appeared to be to sit there and try a sample whenever Lobelia deemed him to. She haggled with the baker over the price of a second cake, then she wanted to know if he’d gotten the flour from the Southfarthing instead of the Eastfarthing, which led to a discussion about the Goold crop this season and if their sweet potatoes really would win at the fair this year, and somehow ended up on a conversation they both overheard about the dwarf King getting married. Bilbo shrunk down in his seat, a piece of pound cake stuffed in his mouth.

“Let’s ask Bilbo, he worked in the Mountain,” Lobelia said, turning to look at the other hobbit with a look that said there would be trouble if he didn’t answer.

“Wh-what? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.” Bilbo felt his face heat up and Mister Bank gave him a kind smile of sympathy.

“The King,” the hobbit lass shouted, startling the baker’s son who was chopping apples into slices. “Do keep up Bilbo. Is he getting married? I think there would have been an official announcement if there was. Oh, can you imagine, I bet it will be a splendid party. The dwarves will dress up in jewels and the finest cloth, there will be so much food, and I’m sure there will be Kings and Queens from all over Middle-Earth who will stop by to give their best wishes.”

Bilbo almost bit his tongue and then wished he had, anything to excuse himself from the conversations. “Um, well, there was a rumor here or there, but surely there would be an official announcement like you said if it was true or not.”       

Thankfully the answered seemed to satisfy Lobelia and she nodded primly before she went back to talking about her own great feast she’d had planned for the wedding. Bilbo just wished the ground would open up and swallow him. Eventually Lobelia seemed pleased with the arrangements she made with the baker and they hurried down the store front to the tailors.

“Is it really necessary for me to be here for this?” Bilbo asked, sitting politely on a bench provided outside the dressing room. Another hobbit was there with his wife, and he’d fallen asleep waiting for her to finish her fitting, his snores loud over the chattering of the women folk behind the curtain.

“Yes,” Lobelia stated, then provided no answer as to why.

Tired of listening to the other hobbit snoring beside him, Bilbo got to his feet to browse the fabrics. There were some new patterns, besides the regular yellows and greens that he thought might interest him. There was a pretty silver blue that reminded him of Thorin’s eyes, so when a sales assistant sidled up to him he found himself asking for a few yards to take home. He didn’t know yet what he would do with it, but he was proficient in sewing he could make something if he wanted. He also bought some new buttons, a yellow striped scarf, and a grey waistcoat they had on sale that fit him just perfectly. He tried to find something for Thorin but everything was just too hobbitish for the dwarf to wear, and now that Bilbo knew he was a King, what use would Thorin have for clothes that Bilbo bought him? Thorin could ask the tailors in the Mountain to make him robes of pure gold and that would be all right. So what appeal would there be for a King to have soft cotton trousers and a waistcoat?   

Bilbo was getting tired of waiting for Lobelia, and almost thought about just walking out and leaving her when she finally made an appearance.

To be frank, she looked beautiful. All done up in her white silk and cream batiste gown, red and gold leaves embroidered around the hem, with a petticoat a pale patterned pink. Her bodice was simple but elegant, a design of gold wheat tied with a pink ribbon fixed in the middle. The lacing around the edges of the sleeves and skirt looked very delicate, making Lobelia’s normally pointed features soft, and the crisp white of the gown brought out the pink in her cheeks and the gold in her hair.

Bilbo smiled tenderly, and it was like that young lass who’d chase him through the wheat fields wielding a stick as a sword was suddenly standing before him, mature and giddy with the excitement of marriage. It appeared love really could change a person.

“You like?” She asked quietly, twirling around in a circle to show the pink bows in the back.

“It’s lovely, you’re lovely. I think Otho’s a lucky hobbit.”

Lobelia started to tear up and the tailor handed her a handkerchief. “You mean it? I know we don’t get along anymore, but you know him best so be honest, do I look horrid?”

“Lobelia,” Bilbo said, reaching out to hold the hobbit lass hands. “I don’t dislike you, maybe it’s true we have our differences here and there, but I’ve never thought badly of you. We just grew up two different hobbits than what we were as children. I can promise you this though, Otho looks at you every day and thanks Eru you even deigned to even look back, and on the wedding day he will take one look at you in this dress and be the proudest bridegroom the Shire had ever seen. You’ll make Lily so jealous she’ll combust.”

Blushing, Lobelia pushed Bilbo away bashfully. “You think?”

“Truly,” Bilbo smiled. “I’m a little envious of Otho myself, I’ve never seen you look so lovely, but I fear I’ve missed my chance and I shall be the one wailing in the corner when you two take your vows.”

“As if,” the hobbit lass scoffed. “The whole town knows you’ve been favoring that dwarf that’s been coming by Bag End late at night, so don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes. I’ve known you long enough to know your type. You’ve had the blush of a smitten hobbit for the last few weeks and you’ve been walking on clouds whenever you head to the Mountain.”

The tailor coughed and politely turned away. Bilbo blushed furiously and wondered if he’d been that obvious to everybody in the Shire about how besotted with Thorin he’d become. It was little wonder Lobelia hadn’t stormed to Bag End before now and demanded to know what was going on.

With her fears abated Lobelia went back behind the curtain to undress since the final fitting was now complete. Bilbo helped her carry the dress back to her home, making sure none of it dragged in the dirt and helped her hang it up high where her baby sister’s sticky fingers wouldn’t get it. The other hobbit had also wanted to visit a scribe to see about making a sign to hang on the party tree since he did so well with the invitations, but the rain clouds were blowing in faster than they both assumed and it would be both their misfortune to be caught in it.

As a complimentary donation, Bilbo volunteered to make the sign himself, explaining that his writing was good enough and he’d do it for free. Lobelia about bowled him over when she hugged him, thanking him profusely.

It seemed like some of the bad blood between them had thinned a bit, and the looks she sent him were friendly now than the ones she usually gave him. Bilbo could admit maybe some of the problem was his fault, he’d been haughty on occasion after he’d turned of age and Lobelia had still be considered young and wild. He’d been condescending towards her for running around in the mud when she should be growing up. It wasn’t until after his mother boxed him over the ear that he’d seen the error of his ways, but by then though it was too late and Lobelia had turned bitter towards their friendship. Only now did Bilbo feel immature about the mistakes he’d made in his youth and carried on into his adulthood, and he was glad now to consider Lobelia a friend again.

Bilbo hurried home under the light sprinkles of rain, hopping over growing puddles and a herd of swine who’d wandered away from their farmer. It just started pouring down rain when he hit Bag End and hurry up the porch he nearly ran straight into the door. Only the door was already open.

“H-hello?” Bilbo peeked inside, not overly concerned but still cautious.

There was a loud banging from down the hallway and Mister Pumpernickel came scurrying out around the corner like there was a fire on his tail. Bilbo squeaked and jumped out of the way, setting his shopping aside as he pulled off his jacket and hung it up.

“Master Pumpernickel, you scared me. I thought we’d had a burglar in the house,” Bilbo said, bent over to wipe his feet with a towel. He glanced once more out the open door, watching the rain start to pour heavily down from the sky.

“You mean like us?” Kili jumped out from behind a wall, arms outstretched like he was asking for a hug. Fili was right behind him, smirking devilishly with a wooden cage in his hands.

Bilbo cried out in shock, whirled around, and swung the broom he kept near the door at the two Princes who had little chance to move out of the way before the bristled end jabbed Fili in the face and Kili was hit in the shoulder by the wooden shaft. Fili dropped the cage, which looked big enough to hold Master Pumpernickel, the poor dear, and the dwarf sputtered back until he tripped over a chair and fell onto his rump, hitting the back of his head on the table. Kili was knocked to the side and into the wall, his long nose and forehead banging into the corner of a picture frame with a loud smack. The two dwarves moaned in unison.

“Y-You! You-you-you about gave me a heart attack!” Bilbo still wielded his broom like he was about to hit the two over the head with it, heart pounding wildly and legs shaking wildly in fright.

“Misther Boggins, we didn’th meon--” Kili lisped, holding his nose and rubbing his forehead. He at least was still on his feet as his brother rolled around on the floor. Fili was groaning loudly as he held the back of his head, moaning about deceptive hobbit furniture.

“I can’t believe you two,” Bilbo shouted, finally able to unclench his hands from about the broom’s handle. “Sneaking into my home uninvited and popping out like that! What if I’d had a sword, I would have cut right through you both!”

Fili had finally staggered to his feet, holding his head like it was in danger of rolling right off his shoulders. “Sorry Mister Baggins, we didn’t mean… well we did, but we meant no harm. We’ve wanted to visit for days now but were forbidden to. Uncle Thorin said we were supposed to leave you alone until you _initiated contact_ and asked to see us.”

“Yes, but obviously listening to Uncle is what got us in this mess in the first place so we ignored him,” Kili grumbled, checking his nose to see if it was broken. Satisfied with his diagnosis, the dwarf wiped the bit of blood running down his nose on his sleeve and smiled happily at the hobbit.   

Bilbo glared. “Don’t play innocent victim in this. The trick was just as much your fault as Thorin’s.”

Fili and Kili shared a look then shrugged. “Okay, your right. We might have spread the word that the others were to keep quiet. But it was for our Uncles sake, we’d never seen him so moon-struck over someone before and we thought his plan to keep quiet of his true identity wasn’t _that_ bad,” Fili said.

The hobbit huffed and put his hands on his hips. “You say ‘that bad’? He lied about being the King of Erebor! How is that not bad?”

“I told mother it was Thorin who spilled ale on her favorite rug. People lie all the time and as long as no one’s hurt it shouldn’t matter,” Kili piped in, looking more amused with Bilbo’s anger than anything. These two were so obviously spoiled it gave Bilbo a headache just thinking about the trouble they got into on a daily basis. And to think, if he married Thorin we would be related to these two degenerates.

Fili gasped and turned to his brother, “You didn’t! She about skinned him alive she was so angry and it was you this whole time? Uncle tried to blame Dwalin, but she didn’t believe him. She made him buy her that tapestry from Lord Elrond she’s been wanting forever. He about had a fit.”

Kili laughed and the two brothers leaned into each other as they giggled over the memory. Bilbo gave them both a suitably unimpressed look before stomping to the kitchen, grumbling at them to lock up since they’d come in without permission. There was nothing he could do about their attitudes, adults they were supposed to be. He just felt sorry for the future of Erebor if these were the leaders they had to look forward to. 

“Oh Mister Baggins,” Kili sung, following quickly behind Bilbo until he grabbed the hobbit around the middle and spun him around. “We didn’t mean to anger you. Come here Fili, let’s give him the Durin brother’s official apology of Erebor, you know the one.”

Fili grinned roguishly before enveloping both Bilbo and Kili in a hug. Kili’s arms wrapped tight around Bilbo’s waist and he lifted the hobbit off his feet as the two smothered Bilbo between them. Fili, with his arms around the other two, lifted Kili off his feet and gave them a big shake. Bilbo squeaked, face smashed against the fur trim of Fili’s jacket and the rough wool of Kili’s shirt. It was hot and sweaty, and truthfully neither of them smelt very good (like wet dogs actually), and the two dwarves tried their best to wring the very breath from Bilbo.

“L-let me go! If you don’t let me go, I’ll… I’ll tell Thorin!”

“Ho ho, he’ll tell Thorin on us,” Kili laughed as Fili set them down. Horribly flustered, Bilbo struggled away from them until the brunette dwarf’s belt snagging on his shirt sleeve. Bilbo coughed heavily for breath and didn’t try to hide his put-out expression. Kili grinned like he walked in on a lass changing, “Now look at this, brother! Mister Baggins is offer-- Urk!”

“You’ll be leaving the hobbit alone now,” Dwalin growled, appearing out of nowhere and lifting Kili up by his collar before setting him out of the way. Fili at least attempted to look sheepish, taking a step back from Bilbo and away from the stern look the older dwarf was giving them all. Bilbo staggered dizzily in one spot, gasping for the air he was denied between the Princes.  Dwalin set a steady hand on the hobbit’s back, helping him for the moment find balance.

“Thanks, um, how did you get in?” Bilbo asked, then leaned back to look around the guards towards the door, where a whole troupe of dwarves were shuffling in out of the rain.

“Sorry we let ourselves in, door was open and we saw Master Dwalin storming in so we figured we were welcomed too,” Bofur said genially, hanging his cloak up beside the others. Bifur had Master Pumpernickel in his arms, soothing the frazzled cat from whatever the Princes had done to him. Glóin grumbled about the rain as Dori helped Balin with his cloak. The others were all in a variety of cleaning off and making themselves at home.

“N-no, that’s fine. Bofur,” Bilbo smiled so wide he thought his face might split in half. He was so happy to see the dwarf, he’d been worried Bofur had been punished in some way, even though Thorin had promised he wasn’t. “All of you, your always welcome to Bag End.”

The others all smiled back as they made themselves at home and before long there was a dinner feast in Bag End.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just found out Lobelia’s maiden name was Bracegirdle, but we’re going with Sackville for the sake of earlier chapters. Once this whole thing is all done I’m going through each chapter and fix the grammar, capitalizations, and any other mistakes. That way people who are keeping up chapter by chapter won’t be surprised by sudden name changes and such.  
> I also figure Bilbo would know some things about clothing and fabric type, seeing how the making of clothes seemed to involve the buyer as much as the tailor.  
> Sorry this was late, I was sick last night. Also to all those who commented, there will be no mpreg, mostly because it really wouldn't flow into the story all that well and isn't really necessary to the rest of the plot. There might be a short sequel/stand alone fic after this one that might mention it, but I'd rather not get into the fuss of explaining why it's possible and such.


	16. Family and Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company spends time with Bilbo, and the hobbit officially meets Dis.

****

 

Bilbo was already half way into his pint of ale when the thunder started up, lightening rattling the whole smial when it struck ground and shaking the windows.

“Ha ha! That is Mahal, striking his mighty hammer!” Glóin call out after everyone went silent from the startling weather.

“No, that is Thorin,” Kili yelled out across the table. “Throwing rocks from the balcony, upset that we are having a party at his hobbit’s without him.”

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo sighed over the loud laughter from the others. He was happy they were enjoying themselves and glad to have them with him on such a frightening night, but he was somewhat still irate at them all.

For all the trouble they’d given him, Bilbo absolutely refused to share his special apple, blueberry, and cherry pie with anybody except Bofur. The dwarf teased the others by eating the dessert extra slowly and making lewd noises as he chewed, ignoring the glares from the others with an easy smirk.

“How come he gets some but not us?” Bombur asked, looking doe eyed and pouty as his brother sucked the sticky juice from his fork in exaggerated pleasure.   

Bilbo hit the fat dwarf’s sneaking fingers with a spoon. “Because, Mister Bofur did something none of you did. He at least tried to tell me the truth, unlike you lot, who haven’t even apologized for the whole secret-keeping business.”

“I’m sorry Mister Bilbo!” Fili shouted across the table, arms waving in the air. “Now can I have some pie?”

“No,” Bilbo sniffed, turning his head away. 

Glóin patted him on the back, “We are really sorry. We didn’t know ya’d take finding out so hard. We thought ya’d be happy!”

“I wasn’t,” Bilbo bit back. “How was keeping him being a King a good idea? I thought you’d all just played another trick on me.”

Balin set his loaded plate down across from Bilbo, his kind face swathed in regret. “My deepest apologies lad, no one meant any cruelty by it. Thorin had requested us to keep the secret of his true identity in the anticipation that you would bore a natural attractions to him instead of one born from greed and gold-lust. It was suggested to him after your initial meetings that he should inform you of the ruse but he wanted to be sure. As his friends, he could hardly deny him the chase to find love on his own.”

The others went quiet, listening intensely to the older dwarf with soft smiles. Bilbo found himself nodding without thought, a bit moved by Balin’s words. 

“I…I guess that’s understandable,” Bilbo conceded. He’d already forgiven Thorin and their friends had just been following the dwarf King’s orders, as misguided as it was. 

Bofur put his arms around Bilbo’s shoulders. “I’m sorry too, that I wasn’t able to tell you when I had a chance.”

“Ass-kisser,” Nori muttered under his breath. His attempts to steal a piece of pie was thwarted by Dwalin, who stabbed a steak-knife into the honeyed pork just as the dwarf’s hand was about to slip by. 

“Well, you at least tried,” Bilbo stressed. Bofur had at least learned from the first incident and knew that Bilbo would have been offended by Thorin’s deception. Some of the others hadn’t been there for the prank the Princes and Bofur pulled, so it was really a first time mishap with them. Sadly, the Princes didn’t give the impression of having learned for that incident at all. They almost appeared insulted that Bilbo was asking for an apology all together. 

“I think the hobbit got his payback when he demanded Thorin’s beard,” Nori said, a sly smirk directed at the Princes. Fili and Kili were suddenly wielding the butter knives in a rather threatening manner and looking ready to lunge across the table to defend their uncle’s reputation. 

“I never demanded anything,” Bilbo sputtered. 

“No?” Ori asked, looking confused. “But we were told he cut if off for you.”

Grumbling at the rubbish excuses of dwarf Kings, Bilbo swiftly downed the rest of his pint. If wasn’t until after he slammed the empty cup back onto the table that he explained the truth. “He did, but only because he made a promise and then broke it. I never forced him to do anything, he took the knife from his own pocket and cut it off. I think I still have the leftover somewhere?” The last was said more towards himself as Bilbo thought about what he’d actually done with the hacked off beard. He hadn’t thrown it away, though it would be more sanitary to do so, only he was sure the braid meant something to Thorin and it might be insulting to just toss it in the fire like left over clippings.  

“Mahal,” Dwalin groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Balin coughed, almost choking on his drink. “I see, w-well, what you do with the braid is your own doing. I’m not sure how you hobbits deal with things of tribute, but I’m sure you will do what your sullied honor requires.”

“Sullied!” Bilbo felt quite offended by the accusation. “Thorin did no sullying of my honor. My reputation is quite intact. He apologized for his lie and meant it, that’s all that matters.” 

“Yes, but Mister Baggins,” Dori said gently. “If he promised you something and then broke it, causing you any harm or hurt feelings, he’s dishonored not only you but also himself. To restore both your reputations he needed to give you tribute as payment for his misdeed.”

“That’s just hog-wash,” Bilbo muttered, rolling his eyes. “Us hobbits are not nearly so strict about things like honor. He did hurt my feelings and he apologized, that’s what counts. If I was demanding payment from everyone who hurt my feelings because of a broken promise, you lot would be top of the list.”

All the dwarves reared back like they’d been struck, hissing and muttering in Khuzdul to each other and avoiding Bilbo’s gaze. Bilbo froze in shock, not expecting the sudden tense atmosphere from his words. He’d been mostly saying that last part in jest, having forgiven them and wanting to get off the subject, but the dwarves took his words very seriously. Maybe he should have thought about what he said before he said it?    

Dwalin banged his fist on the table. “Now see here, you shouldn’t go accusing dwarves of dishonor when I ain’t made no promises to you and I haven’t broken them either.”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah, Me too!”

Bilbo flushed under the angry glares, but the Took side of him reared up and gave him courage. “There might not have been blatant promises but I considered us friends and that’s a sort of pledge, a bond deeper than any spoken agreement. To be there for each other, to be kind to one another, to help when we are needed and to protect, and most of all never to hurt each other for any reason. When you lot kept Thorin’s identity from me you were not being friends, except you Bofur, and that’s a breach of our friendship. Therefore, like a broken promise.”  

They all started muttering in Khuzdul again, and Bilbo reminded himself to ask Thorin about him learning the secret dwarf language. If they were to marry, and possibly rule a dwarf kingdom together, it would be best to know the native tongue. He was tired of feeling like they were always talking bad things about him to his face and having a laugh that he never understood them.  

“The lad is wise,” Balin said, “And correct. We owe him payment for the offence we dealt him.”

There was more grumbling from the company, except Bofur who seemed extraordinarily pleased with himself, and Kili appeared most distressed. The young Prince whispering to his brother that he had no beard to cut off, until Fili informed him that the payment didn’t have to be from the chin.

“So what should I give him? I’ve never dishonored someone before. This is very upsetting, I should hope mother never finds out,” Kili said, looking even more worried at the prospect of their mother discovering what they’d done. It made something in Bilbo lighten, knowing there was at least someone in the mountain who could control the ill-behaved boys. 

Fili was checking his pockets, pulling out all sorts of odds and ends that had no sense to them. Bilbo watched warily as the blond dwarf pulled from his pockets the cuckoo of a clock, kite string, four small knives, a ball of purple yarn, two silver jeweled cuffs, and a radish before he piled it all in front of him. The hobbit raised an eyebrow at the mound of junk and hoped the vegetable hadn’t come from his garden. Then Bilbo caught sight of Nori’s growing pile of unpleasant items and became concerned.  

“I don’t expect things from you,” the hobbit said loudly. “A sincere apology is fine, maybe a promise not to do something like this again and I will consider all your debts fulfilled. Please, Please, Nori keep that knife, I think it still has blood on it. Fili, what am I to do with silver cuffs? I have no place to wear something that grand. No! No, Glóin, please. Keep your hair beads. I have one from Thorin already that I do not wear, I do not need more.”

It took some doing, but eventually the dwarves pocketed the hasty gifts they’d planned to give Bilbo and grumbled out apologies as the alternative. It took some quick thinking and various rushed excuses, to explain that hobbits were more of a people who took someone’s word over expensive trinkets any day of the week, and eventually he had the dwarves convinced that things should be done a hobbit’s way instead of a dwarf’s way. Seeing as _he_ was the one ‘dishonored’ by the group.     

“Uncle has given you a bead?” Kili spoke up, snapping his silver hair clip back into place. “Why do you not wear it?”

“Um,” Bilbo paused. “I doubt my hair is long enough yet to even braid.”

“It’s not!” Ori shouted, showing off his own short braids. “Dori’s able to plait mine and it’s not as long as the others either. I’m sure he could come up with something for you too!” Dwalin gave the young scribe a soft look and Nori threw a half-eaten tomato at the guard. Dwalin growled, wiping the juice and seeds from his face, but he didn’t retaliate nor did he say a word against the other dwarf. Nori smirked smugly until Ori hit him over the head.  

“T-that’s nice.” Bilbo tried to smile. Not that Ori’s hair was bad, but if Dori had been doing the younger dwarf’s hair then Bilbo would be sure to avoid his advice when it came to braid designs. 

“Mister Thorin will be braiding the lad’s hair soon enough,” Bofur joked, eating his fill of sweets and desserts as the others had been frantic to find things for Bilbo. The dwarf appeared to be enjoying the fact that he was the only one not in trouble from the whole incident and found much delight at everyone else’s attempts to ask for forgiveness.

“Oi!” Dwalin growled, pointing some tongs at the miner. “None of that now. We won’t be speaking about Thorin’s courting of the hobbit.”

Óin perked up, his ear trumpet in hand. “What’s that? Thorin’s made the hobbit consort? Already? I wasn’t even invited to the wedding!”

“No!” Bilbo yelled, dropping the boiled egg from his mouth. “No, no, oh goodness no! There hasn’t been any weddings yet or anything of the sort. That’s mine and Thorin’s business, leave it alone.”

Kili and Fili both looked quickly up. “You won’t be inviting us to the wedding? We’re family!”

Bilbo shook his head, “What? No, I never said that. Where are you all getting this information?”

“But you just said--”

“Oh nevermind,” Bilbo groaned, head spinning from all the confusion. “I feel like I say one thing and you lot hear another. I’m just going to sit quietly here until this is all over.”

“Smart idea lad,” Balin winked. “Better let them sort it out themselves or you’ll go crazy trying to explain yourself.”

“Tell me about it,” Bilbo muttered. The Princes looked about ready to brave the weather to interrogate their uncle. Speaking loudly of wild theories that Thorin had somehow been tricked into a hobbit marriage and hadn’t invited them, and then they started speculating that they had somehow made their uncle mad and forgotten how. Was there a dwarf on Middle-Earth who didn’t take one thing you said and twist it around to mean something else? They could find insult in any standard conversation and never liked to explain things for themselves. They were a most unruly race.

Bombur leaned over his brother with a distressing look. “I’m sorry Mister Baggins, about what happened with your job. Master Flar hadn’t known what was going on.”

“No, its fine,” Bilbo squeaked, shaking his head. That he was fired still caused him cringe at the memory and he’d rather not talk about it anymore than he had to. He had enough explaining to the other hobbits about it. 

“What happened with the lad’s job?” Glóin looked up from his decimation of a whole roasted chicken, bits of meat stuck in his beard. 

“Nothing!” Bilbo said quickly, but Bombur was already talking over him. 

“Master Flar fired him for causing a distraction.”

There was a loud chorus up and down the table, shouts and roars of, “No!” “What!” “Does Thorin know?” “Uh-oh.” “Why I outta…”

Bilbo shrunk down in his seat, face flushed. “Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dwalin eyed Bilbo from his spot nearby, a peculiar look on his face. He seemed to be the only one not agitated by Bilbo being fired and he sat calmly with a plate of candied yams in front of him. The hobbit thought it best to stare back than involve himself with the riotous conversations going on around him. 

“--we ask Bilbo. Bilbo?” Bofur shook him, breaking the stare down. 

“What?”

The miner pulled the hobbit up straight, looking concerned. “Do you want us to get your job back? Balin can talk to Flar and explain the situation if you want?”

Bilbo swallowed thickly. Even if he wanted, he could never face the humiliation of going back there under someone else’s aid. They would all know and stare at him, maybe even talk about him behind his back, worse than when what was being said about him were only rumors. Some might even resent him for only getting his job back because he knew dwarves of high status. And that’s not even counting his own self-worth, he couldn’t possibly return if they were forced to take him. “No, it’s… its fine. It’s for the best that I no longer work there.”

“Why’s that?” Nori asked, cheeks puff out like a chipmunk as he tried to stuff as many biscuits in his mouth as possible. Dori looked at his brother and sighed loudly, sipping neatly at his tea.

“If I w-want to be with Thorin, surely there will be more important things than cooking for me to do?”

Balin beamed at him from across the table.

“So you _will be_ marrying uncle then?” Kili asked, spitting food everywhere as he spoke with his mouth full. Bilbo frowned, if these were the table manners of the Princes of Erebor he really didn’t know what he was going to do. How did they pass in polite company without embarrassing their mother? Thorin wasn’t even this bad, at least not around him.

Bilbo blinked and remembered the question the young dwarf asked. “Um, well…” he looked wildly around at all the eager faces, heart thumping wildly in the sudden stillness of the room. Dwalin’s scolding had kept them from asking more questions and minding their own business, but it seemed that because Bilbo brought it up the subject was back on the table. Fili and Kili both looked very eager for the answer and even Balin had his ear turned in Bilbo’s direction.

“I…well, um. I really don’t think--”

“Don’t be asking him questions like that,” Dwalin reminded them all. “It’s not for you to know yet.”

“Aww,” Kili pouted, slumping towards his brother and sulking against his shoulder. Fili patted the younger dwarf on the head and handed him the last piece of veal sausage. 

Balin winked at Bilbo. “Well, either way it’s good to know there is some hope for the future,” he said with a merry chuckle. “We’ll all be keeping this our little secret from our esteemed leader, let him feel a bit of what our hobbit went through for a while.”

There was a mixed chorus of groans and laughter as Bilbo gaped at the older dwarf. He hadn’t wanted to give Thorin a taste of his own medicine, though there was some appeal, he just wasn’t the type of hobbit to seek retribution. He flailed for a moment and was able to wiggle out from under Bofur’s arm to stand, intent to tell everyone that keeping secrets from Thorin was not in any way a good idea. Then Bombur let out a large belch and everyone else quickly got into the action, burping, and in Óin’s case-- farting, until they all decided that Ori’s was the winner of the repulsive contest by burping so loudly the chandeliers shook.     

Bilbo sighed in defeat and shuffled to his pantry for more ale. How would he be able to help Thorin with his kingdom of dwarves if he couldn’t even control the twelve dwarves in his kitchen? 

As he was walking down the hallway Bilbo just happened to glance into the living room. There sat Bifur with a book in his lap, muttering in Khuzdul as Master Pumpernickel sat on his head, delicately grooming the dwarf’s graying hair. Bilbo looked back down the hall, then back into the room, just to be sure he wasn’t seeing things. He’d never seen that blasted cat so docile before. 

Ori shuffled up to Bilbo as he was coming back, empty plate in hand. “What do you want us to do with the dishes Mister Baggins?”

Fili strolled by and deftly stole the plate from the young scribe before tossing it at Kili. Bilbo squawked as the other Prince caught it right before the dishware could hit him, a jovial smile on his face as he threw the plate over his shoulder and into the kitchen. Tugging at his hair Bilbo followed, trying to avoid the cups and plates being tossed about overhead, crying out as the silverware were scraped against each other and his mother’s Eastfarthing earthenware was thrown around like a child’s toy. All the while the dwarves were singing, laughing and joking about what the hobbit hated. 

“I, just-- stop you can’t, you better replace anything you-- that’s a hundred years old…!!!” Bilbo trailed off as the dwarves stood back and revealed all the forks and spoons, dishes, and teacups all in perfect condition stacked up on each other, clean and looking good as new. They all burst out laughing at his flabbergasted expression, pointing and howling in delight.

 Then there was a heavy knock at the door.

“Who could that be?” Dori whispered and the whole house went ominously quiet. During their singing the rain must have settled and the only thing that could be heard was the whistling of the wind through trees. 

“Best answer that lad,” Balin said. 

Bilbo crept forward on silent feet, telling himself that there was no reason to be scared. The dwarves had mixed expressions of concern and worried faces, acting like they had no idea who it could be and strangers weren’t known to wander into the Shire. For all he knew it could be Thorin, or maybe even Gandalf!  And he thought himself right when the door was creaked open to reveal a tall dwarf with long hair and a blue fur trimmed coat.

“Thorin!” Bilbo smiled, opening the door wider to let the dwarf out of the light drizzle.

“Not quite, Mister Baggins” a soft, girlish voice answered. Into the light stepped a female dwarf that Bilbo had seen before, beautiful and striking in the candle light as she’d been in the sun all those days ago. Her hair was down, long and curly about her shoulders, and her beard braided simply with only a few gold beads decorating it. Instead of a dress, she wore a shirt of simple green cotton with linen leggings and leather boots. 

“Mother!”

“Lady Dis,” Balin gasped. “What are you doing out of the mountain without escort?”

The female dwarf smirked and Bilbo felt his heart skip a beat, it was so familiar to Thorin’s. “I have come to collect my sons and inspect this hobbit that has my infallible brother so twisted in knots.”

“Infallible?” Bilbo scoffed and was rewarded with a quick smile from the pretty dwarf.

Dis unclasped her cloak before handed it over to Dwalin to hang and then she started circling Bilbo like a predator its prey. “So this is the hobbit. Last time we conversed it was much too short.”

“Well,--”

“It is my lady,” Ori yelped, interrupting Bilbo’s reply. “This is Mister Bilbo Baggins of Bag End.”

“She knows that idiot,” Nori hissed and elbowed the young dwarf.

“He’s not what I expected,” Dis said, pinching at the sleeves of Bilbo’s shirt and tugging at the curls on his head. Bilbo flinched away when she tried poke him in the stomach and gave a surprised yelp when she patted his bum

Bilbo felt his face flush, unsure if he should be insulted or not.

“I don’t think my brother deserves you Mister Baggins, from what I can see you are much too good looking for a scraggly fellow like him. No doubt you can find _better_ than him,” She crooned, winking at Bilbo.

“Mother….” Kili whined, looking so embarrassed he hid his face behind his hands, but the sight must have been too intriguing from him not to watch and he peeked through his fingers.  

“I’m telling father you are flirting with others again,” Fili groused, crossing his arms and scowling.

Dis raised a regal eyebrow. “Please do, I think it’s about time I supplied you two with a brother or sister.”

The two Princes groaned, slapping their hands over their ears and flushing profusely. Their mother laughed and pinched their cheeks, patting Balin and Dwalin on the shoulders, and thumping Glóin and Óin on the forehead.

“I’m curious what this assemblage of dwarves is doing here when their King has expressly forbidden them from visiting?”  

“It was Master Kili’s idea!” Ori squeaked, pointing at the glowering Prince.

“I will tell everyone your secret, you tattletale,” Kili said, nose wrinkling up in a pout. His mother boxed him over the head and rolled her eyes. 

“What secret?” Dori asked Ori. The young dwarf bit his lips and shook his head, avoiding his brothers’ eyes and flushing pink when he caught Dwalin’s curious look.

“Balin,” Dis sighed. “What made someone with your common sense decided to follow my fool son on this journey.”

The older dwarf coughed, pulling his pipe out from inside his robes with fumbling fingers. “Well my lady, he made a convincing argument and we all wanted to check on the hobbit. We felt a formal apology was in order for the dishonor we served him.” 

Bilbo slumped against the wall, exasperated by all these talks of ‘dishonor’. 

Dis hummed and looked pointedly at the messy kitchen and pile of dishes. “I’m sure this is a great way to apologize to your host, by making him clean up after you.”

The group of dwarves sighed simultaneously and shuffled into the kitchen to clean up. Dis even kicked Fili out of his seat and had him washing the dishes before long, while Kili gathered the laundry under her penetrating gaze. 

“Come Mister Baggins, we shall talk.”

The hobbit followed after the Princess into his study, she gave his box of garden tools a raised eyebrow and sat down primly in the chair Thorin’s usually claimed.

“Mi-milady?” Bilbo tripped over his feet and stumbled into his own chair, nervous and flustered to be alone with Erebor’s Princess and Thorin’s sister. Sitting there and looking so much like Thorin, Bilbo had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. It could be entirely possible he’d eaten some bad mushroom.

Dis smiled serenely at Bilbo’s impolite gawking. “Do not be frightened halfling, I am not here to interrogate you about your intentions towards my brother.”  

“Oh, okay?” Wrinkling his nose up at being called a ‘halfling’, Bilbo held his tongue. Thorin’s sister was extremely more intimidating than Thorin and the hobbit felt it would be in bad taste to correct a crowned _Princess_ of her manners.  

“I am actually here to thank you.”

“Me?” Bilbo squeaked, clutching his suspenders.  

Dis sat forward and pulled out a dwarf pipe from her pocket, she taped the side of her nose. “Our secret. The boys would throw a fit if they caught me smoking.”

Bilbo did the only thing he could do and pass over his barrel of pipe-weed, watching in amazement as the Princess sat back with a relaxed sigh and blew smoke rings. “That’s better. Now, back to what I was saying.”

“Yes, yes. You were thanking me? For no reason what so ever,” Bilbo said, voice faltering. He pulled out his own pipe and lit up, needing something to calm his nerves. She might have said it wasn’t an interrogation but it sure felt like it.

The Princess laughed, “Of course there is reason. Any hobbit that gets one over on my brother deserves praise. I knew from the very beginning when Thorin came home grumbling about you and apples that something special had happened to him. I don’t think he noticed, but the whole time he recounted the story to me he was smiling. Then the incident with the soup, that had even Thráin laughing and I haven’t seen our father smile in months.”

Bilbo kept quiet, listening silently as she spoke. Dis talked like a parent reading a bed time story, where nothing was really what it meant and everything was important, where twist and turns were around every corner, and one had to pay attention to really understand the message being told. Her voice soothing and light, she’d make a good storyteller if the profession ever appealed to her.

Dis continued, “The change was instantaneous, you know. He walked different, held himself different, even spoke different. Growing up he’s always been so severe, he takes things so seriously. I blame our father for that, making Thorin grow up so fast and forcing his to rule at such a young age. He’s never had much of a change to socialize and make friends on his own, to have someone even look at him with their vision unobstructed by his royal crown. Everything he’s done as been for the future wellbeing of Erebor, never for himself, and I dreaded he would be lost to the heavy weight of his duties.”

 She paused and looked pointedly at Bilbo, her cheeks flushing with happiness. “Then you came along at just the right moment. His bearing is lighter and he smiles more. You know I found him in the library the other day reading up on flowers! I’ve never seen him read a book unless one of our tutors forced him to or it was about some boring flow chart about diamond yield four centuries ago. Balin says he gets along better at council too, he’s more willing to forgive and he’s not so quick to temper. He about sent the minister of finance into shock when he laughed at his joke. He’s even been what I would consider _nice_ to the elvish Prince Legolas. I can honestly say even if things do not plan out how my brother hopes, you’ve impacted him in such a profound way that we, and most of all he, has benefitted from it.”

“Lady…” Bilbo choked, his eyes watering. His heart ached, sad from the tale of Thorin’s past and the pessimistic outlook Dis had for her brother before Bilbo hit him with an apple. To him, Thorin had always been Thorin, a dwarf with an exasperating attitude but a soft heart and happy smile, willing to help Bilbo if he ever needed it and always willing to do anything to make the hobbit happy.

Dis held a hand up to silence him. “They say my Heptifili softened my heart. Maybe us of Durin’s are born with cold hearts until we find our One? I had feared for my brother, that Thorin would turn bitter and callous upon the hollowed throne if he did not find the same happiness I had acquired with Hept. Thorin is not perfect and I cannot excuse his actions in regards to keeping his Kingship from you, but I can only ask that you think of the hardship he grew up in and give him some leniency.”

Bilbo sniffled and blew his nose in his handkerchief. “Did-- did he really read a book on flowers?”

The dwarf nodded, puffing at her pipe. “He got _upset_ when he learned that _tulips_ were currently out of season.”

“Oh goodness.” Bilbo hid his smile behind his hand. It made him giddy and excited to know that Thorin was investing so much into their relationship that his dwarf was researching flowers for him. How very hobbit-like of him.

Dis smoked the last of her pipe-weed and quickly cleaned the pipe before pocketing it back up. “I do not mean to make it seem like I am pleading with you to take Thorin back. He is stupid, but he means well and his heart is in the right place.”

“But I’ve already made it,” Bilbo said. “My decision that is.”

“Ah, well…” Dis blinked, taken aback. “That’s good then?”   

 Putting his pipe down, Bilbo got to his feet. “Yes. I’ve forgiven him if you haven’t heard. I’ve also… well, I thought about it. Certainly Thorin being a King wasn’t something I expected, sort of a disadvantage in his favor if you ask me.”

“Being a King is a _disadvantage_?” Dis said in a high, disbelieving tone.    

Bilbo trembled nervously and he felt sort of like he was staring down a warg instead of a Princess, but if he had to tell anybody of his future plans with Thorin, Dis would be the person to tell. At least this way she could reassure Thorin and tell him his self-imposed exile was no longer necessary. “Yes. To a hobbit I suppose. Or just me? I’ve heard some lasses about town talking about your boys, but never-mind. I would never think to see myself married to a dwarf King, Eru knows I have no idea what that entitles or what will be expected of me, but I have always been able to see myself with Thorin. I think-- I think that’s what really matters in the end. I’ll handle it as long as he’s by my side.”

“Oh Mister Baggins,” Dis sighed, slipping gracefully to her feet. “You really are too good. You will make my brother very happy and someday soon I hope to welcome you into our family officially. Until then, should you ever need anything from me, just ask.”

Then the next second Bilbo found himself being pulled forward as the dwarf Princess kissed both his cheeks. That was of course when Fili walked into the room.

“ _Mother_!”

Afterwards there was a lot of teasing and laughing, but it really was getting late and the storm had let up completely by then for the dwarves to walk safely back to the mountain. The others had cleaned up as well as could be expected, though Bilbo was unsure why his cabinets had needed new hinges or the plumbing fixed, he wasn’t going to complain. Opening a closet door, Bilbo discovered Ori and Dwalin inside, the larger dwarf leaning forwards with his lips puckered. The hobbit quickly closed the door before he could see anything else. They both came out a few moments later flushed and avoiding Bilbo’s gaze. Master Pumpernickel appeared very forlorn at the idea of Bifur leaving him, and the dwarf said some gentle words in Khuzdul that had the cat’s tail perking right up. Bombur and Bofur laughed, practically dragging their cousin out the door as he waved goodbye and blew kisses. Bilbo decided it was better left unknown. 

Before Dis walked out the door with her sons acting escort, Bilbo called out to her.

“Wait! Can you give something to Thorin for me?”

“Of course Mister Baggins.” Dis shooed her sons to go on ahead and Fili gave Bilbo a mistrustful glare. He eventually joined Kili and they both waited by the end of the gate and started whistling a tune. A ominous and threatening tune by Bilbo’s standards. 

Running into his study, Bilbo pulled out a blank sheet of paper and wrote a quick note. He burned some wax and sealed the letter before tying it with string. He didn’t want anybody else reading it except Thorin. It was sort of last minute and Bilbo was sure he could work things out with Lobelia, but if Thorin wanted to experience things where no one knew he was a King, Bilbo knew just the place to do that. As long as the dwarf was okay with missing one day of Durin’s day to spend with the hobbits. Turning around he almost ran right into the Princess.

“Sorry, Madam Dis,” Bilbo said, stubbing his toe on his desk. 

“Please,” the female dwarf purred. “Call me Dis. We are practically family, remember?”

Bilbo blushed, awkward and excited at the same time. He liked Dis, she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders and she was entertaining when her focus wasn’t on him. He prayed that Thorin never heard about her pinching or grabbing him like she had, though the hobbit knew she meant nothing from it except to embarrass her sons most likely, it still was indecent behavior. Goodness knew how Thorin would react if she did her grabbing while he was there. There was little doubt in Bilbo’s mind that Dis loved her husband, and she probably flirted to get a rise out of the others and find entertainment at their expense. As much as she looked like Thorin, she certainly didn’t act like him.

“Only if you call me Bilbo,” the hobbit smiled back, handing over the letter that she quickly pocketed. She winked one last time before heading out the door. Fili and Kili started grumbling right away, asking her why she took so long and what did ‘Mister Boggins’ want from her. She smiled sweetly and refused to answer any of their questions and instead asked if they would like a sister. After that, the last that Bilbo heard from the company was laughter like tinkling bells and howls of suffering from over the hills.  

 

****

  


	17. The Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin see each other for the first time after their fight.

****

 

Bilbo sent a letter to Lobelia early the next morning asking her to join him for lunch. It was under the ruse that he had her sign ready, but he really planned to ask her if it would be okay to invite a guest with him to her wedding. He was optimistic that their newfound friendship would mean he could talk her out of the words she’d given him by the river and he could have a plus one instead of going alone. If he explained the situation to her a little, she might be moved to allow Thorin to come along.

He thought it best though to leave the whole ‘King’ business quiet for now.

He cleaned his house and made sure everything was impeccable, the muffins were still cooling and tea already set up for two, while a chicken roasted in the oven. He was ready to receive guests and exactly as the hour struck on his grandfather’s clock there was a knock at the door.

“Miss Lobelia!” Bilbo smiled, taking the hobbit lass’ coat and umbrella. The sky was clear but there was still a chill to the air from last night’s rainstorm.

“Mister Baggins,” Lobelia groused. “That neighbor of yours is a menace. Said it was an accident, but I know better. He let that pig trample all over my perennials and my sneezeweed is all but destroyed now. I should tell that wife of his when I leave here about his misdeeds and it would serve him right to get a scolding from her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Not wanted to get caught in the dispute between Hamfast and Lobelia, Bilbo ushered the other hobbit into the dining room. 

They sat and snacked, making small talk about what they’ve heard around the Shire. Supposedly there was such a terrible howling last night among the hills that there was fear that a wolf had somehow snuck into town and all the men folk had risen early this morning to hunt it down. Bilbo laughed and said that he might have a story to explain the howling, and he even got a giggle out of the lass when he told her it was mostly likely embarrassed sons instead of any wandering beast. Lobelia then informed Bilbo that he was earning himself a reputation, having dwarves over at all hours of the night and people were wants to talk if he kept this up.

“Actually that’s somewhat what I wanted to talk to you about,” Bilbo said, setting down his tea.

“Hmm?”

Bilbo tried to appear as earnest as he could, widening his eyes and worrying his lip. “I know you said I couldn’t bring a guest to the wedding, but there someone really important that I would like to come along with me.”

Lobelia narrowed her eyes at him, setting her own cup down to cross her arms. “What’s this now?”

“Please,” Bilbo said. “I haven’t told anybody else really, but I-I’m being courted. By a dwarf.”

“Really.” She raised an eyebrow at him, looking unsurprised.

Bilbo scowled, taken aback. “You knew?”

“How could I not,” Lobelia said, throwing her hands in the air. “I told you I knew your type, so I figured it was only a matter of time. You are a Took after all.”

Sputtering, Bilbo gathered himself. He hadn’t known he was such a predicable character.

“Tell me,” Lobelia pointed at him with a pale finger. “Is he the one who made those beautiful gardening tools you’re keeping in the living room? Tell him he’s allowed to come if he makes me a set of my own.”

“Lobelia!” Bilbo shouted, outraged.

“Oh, well, there might not be enough time to make them. Hmm…” She paused to sip at her tea. “Right, if he is your suitor I cannot forbid him to come, we should all get a chance to meet him anyhow, but you owe me Mister Baggins. At your own wedding, I expect to be a guest of honor.”

That startled a laugh out of Bilbo, imagining the hobbit lass’ face when she discovered who exactly Bilbo was marrying and what a guest of honor to the King’s Consort would mean. Bilbo anticipated the wedding would be a large affair, with many important people in attendance, and Bilbo and his kin at center attention. A lot of pressure for a few hobbits to deal with.   

“Deal,” he said, smirking. Bilbo’s turn of temperament made the other hobbit suspicious and she warily shook his hand in agreement.

“I feel like you are hiding something from me.”

“Maybe,” Bilbo teased. “But it is nothing bad I suppose.”

Lobelia snorted at him, “What is your fellow name then, so I can add him to the list.”

Bilbo’s smile could have lit up the room. “Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Oakenshield?” Lobelia thought for a moment and Bilbo worried she might have already known who the dwarf was. Then the lass shook her head and frowned at her muffin. “Dreadful name. Doesn’t sound very dwarvish to me, I would expect something like Goldenshield or Silvershield.”

Bilbo laughed, “Well, he’s a very special dwarf.”

“If you say so,” the hobbit lass sniffed. “Which one is he then, the tall, bald one or the stern looking one? I wouldn’t think it’s either of those young ones running about causing a ruckus, farmer Maggot has a particular bone to pick with those two flirting with his daughters.”

“Oh, well,” Bilbo said, startled. He didn’t know Lobelia had caught sight of his dwarves personally or that Thorin was walking around town without disguise. It brought to light the disconnect the Shire had with Erebor that their King could walk around the busy markets full of hobbits and not be noticed. “The stern looking one I suppose. Though you must understand, he just looks that way. He’s really sweet and he has a good sense of humor.” Sometimes.

Lobelia nodded along. “Yes, Reginard said the same thing about his dwarf if I remember. Solemn fellow, we all thought those two deserved one another. He’ll be there of course, at the wedding. I didn’t forget to invite them either. Now I can’t help but congratulate myself at the forethought, your dwarf will have someone to grunt at while us hobbits all dance.”

Bilbo opened his mouth and then closed it, unsure if he should defend Thorin and risk making Lobelia mad or just letting things be. He very much doubted Thorin would sit around and grunt at people. His dwarf was pretty social from what he knew of him and Thorin was King so he had some training in being tactful towards other races. Still, knowing that there would be another dwarf there for Thorin to talk to comforted Bilbo.

“He’ll know to dress up won’t he?” Lobelia continued, somehow stuffing a whole muffin into her mouth and making it look delicate. “I won’t have him showing up in work boots and leather. He’ll be turned away.”

“No, no!” Bilbo assured her. “Thorin’s… well, he’s sort of noble born. He knows how to dress nice and I’m sure he has an outfit to wear to a wedding.” Eru knows what a wedding outfit construed to a dwarf. He’d have to make sure Thorin stopped by Bag End first so Bilbo could look over his clothes.      

Lobelia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, a noble? I’m rather proud of you Bilbo. If you have to marry out of our race at least you’re marry up and it’s someone of a high standing.”

“Lobelia,” Bilbo hissed. “That’s rude and offensive.”

She shrugged, indifferent to Bilbo’s ire on the dwarves behalf, not just Thorin’s. She should be happy for him that he’s marrying for love, not money or privilege. Bilbo was wealthy enough he never had to worry about finances and as for noble blood, well, Bilbo thought himself in pretty good standing there among the hobbits. He was a Baggins, and his mother a Took, and through blood and marriage basically related to all the major clans of the Shire. There was simply no way he could marry ‘up’ in the Shire. As for the dwarves, he could marry a chimneysweep and be happy, as long as they were in love.

Soon enough the chicken was ready and they ate lunch, talking more about Lobelia’s wedding than Bilbo’s suitor. When the lass asked what would happen to Bag End when he moved to the Mountain, Bilbo went mum on the subject very quickly. They stumbled back into a conversation about the flower girl and why Lobelia’s sister was just a horrid choice, and eventually the tense air melted back into an easy, friendlier atmosphere. Lobelia left to her appointment with her mother-in-law in a better mood and still cursing Hamfast Gamgee’s unpleasant demeanor, her hand-painted sign stuffed under her arm.

Bilbo sat down on his bed before flopping back, arms spread and feet kicking the bed-skirts. He sighed loudly and had no reason to hide the smile that broke across his face. Thorin was allowed to go with him to the wedding, now he just had to make sure the dwarf could come.

Entering the Mountain was odd, especially since he wasn’t doing it under the purpose of heading to his job. He sometimes felt like everybody was staring at him and pointing, but really they weren’t. Some gave him a brief look before they continued on to their mysterious destinations, paying no mind to the hobbit wandering their Kingdom’s hall.

Bilbo found himself halfway to the kitchens when he stopped. Originally he’d only given it half a thought to ask Bombur how he could find Thorin, and then he remembered that he _didn’t want_ to visit the kitchens. No matter how much easier it would be to ask Bombur, Bilbo didn’t think he could show his face in his old workplace for a long while, at least until the abject humiliation wore off.

So Bilbo whirled on his toes and went in another direction. He’d ask a guard for Dwalin instead, it would be a faster way to find out if Thorin was even available to see him and if he was, the dwarf guard could easily have them meet without anyone questioning them. The first guard Bilbo asked couldn’t leave his post, but he pointed the hobbit towards the main doors and inner keep, where he’d heard Master Dwalin was last seen corralling the procession of visitors wanting an audience. After a couple of explanations how to get there, Bilbo followed the directions and found himself outside the grand hall leading to the Mountain atrium.

He peeked around the inner doors and yelped in surprise. The drop-off from the walkways was so cavernous he couldn’t even see the bottom, just the glowing twinkles of lit lanterns and the tiny shadowy movements of the miners below. The dwarves walking the bridges paid no mind to the harrowing chasm just a stumble away and there were even two young boys leaning over the edge to yell at a friend on a walkway nearby. Bilbo didn’t know if it was because they were dwarves or because they walked the bridges so much they were immune to the danger, but he didn’t know how anyone could calmly stroll across the walkway without somehow fearing death.

“Did you see,” a dwarf nearby hissed to another as they were waiting for an audience. “He doesn’t have a beard no longer.”

“No!” the other dwarf sounded scandalized. “The King?”

“Yea, they say he’s in mourning.”

“Did Thráin die?”

The dwarf shrugged. “I dunno. I haven’t heard, but it’s the only thing I can figure for doing something so extreme. It’s like cutting off your hammering arm!”

The two looked sympathetically back towards the throne room. “My uncle cut his beard when my baby cousin died and he wouldn’t grow it back for almost fifty years. Such a sad ending. I heard Thráin hasn’t been healthy for a while now.”

The two continued to talk as they moved forward and Bilbo lost their voices in the crowd. He remembered Gandalf’s words about a sick King, and Thorin had barely touched upon the subject in any of their talks. Bilbo could remember what it was like, having a sick parent, the hopelessness and anger not being able to do anything. That some silly spring cold had gotten into her lungs and what started as a tiny cough turned into a fever that wouldn’t go away. Bilbo had sat at her side the whole time, keeping her head cool and her feet warm, feeding and bathing her when she hadn’t been able to do it for herself. He talked to her, told her stories like she use to when he was a babe, but nothing he did had been enough. She’d eventually passed on a bright summer morning, when the flowers were in bloom and the birds were outside singing.

Before the recollections could encroach on him, Bilbo shook his head and quickly wandered off to the keep. Fleeing the inner sanctum as much as he was the haunting memories. He could hardly expect Thorin to talk about his father when Bilbo could hardly even mention his mother’s name anymore.

He eventually found Dwalin rather simply. The dwarf’s bald head easy to spot over the other milling about, seeing as how Dwalin was a head taller than most of them and his tattoos were glaring blue in the beams of sunlight.

“Mister Baggins,” Dwalin said, sounding surprised. “What’s brought you to the Mountain on this busy day?”

“Busy?” Bilbo looked around, seeing the large amount of elves and Men standing about talking amongst themselves. Very few of them ambled past the doors into the inner sanctum, but the ones who did were eyed with wary mistrust by the sentries posted around the entrance. Bilbo wondered for a moment why the dwarves never gave him a second look, and then decided he was better off for it when he noticed most of the elf guests had dwarves _silently_ stalking them and the humans were always escorted by armed guards.

“Of course it is,” the dwarf patted his shoulder, moving him closer so his toes wouldn’t be treaded on by passing visitors. “Durin’s day starts in two days.” 

“So soon,” Bilbo gasped. He hadn’t been paying attention now that he no longer had Master Flar to remind him each day of the countdown.

Dwalin’s smile looked almost feral. “Thorin will be leading the start of the games. You should come watch, he’ll enjoy having you there. He’s a deft hand at sword fighting and he’s won the last three years running. His duty is to defend his champion title and it will be his last chance to participate. Final day, Durin’s day, is when Thorin’s crowned.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said. He wasn’t sure about watching dwarves, elves, and humans fight each other in competitions and he remembered there being something said about a hunting trip? Though the idea of being there when Thorin was officially crowned sent a shiver of anticipation up his spine. Worried that Thorin leading the games meant he wouldn’t be able to have a day off for Lobelia’s wedding, Bilbo wondered if he should even bother asking the dwarf in person. “That’s good I suppose.”

The dwarf raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “What brings you here hobbit?”

“Right! I had originally wanted to talk to Thorin, but I’m sure he’s busy.”

“There are many wanting an audience today,” Dwalin agreed, looking at the large mass of people waiting to get inside.

Bilbo bit the inside of his cheek. It really did look crowded and surely Thorin didn’t have the time to deal with a lone hobbit wanting to ask him a personal question when there were more important matters of the Kingdom to see to. He could always write another letter, it seemed more convenient.

Suddenly, Dwalin was shoving Bilbo forward into the inner castle and towards the grand hall. “Actually, now sounds like a perfect time. His majesty needs a moment away from all the bickering delegates, and I think a familiar face would do his mood wonders.”

“Wait! What?” Bilbo tried to dig his heels in to stop, only the stone was too slick and the dwarf too strong, and Bilbo was forced through the crowd without little thought to the people jumping out of his way. The hobbit started trembling when he found himself on the walkway heading to the throne, suddenly unsure what scared him more, that he was so high up or that Dwalin was going to force him into an audience with Thorin while he was in front of so many people.

“Master Dwalin? Dwalin! No, stop! I can’t just--” Bilbo broke off and he was shoved forward and he stumbled over his feet, arms pin-wheeling as a wave of vertigo crashed through him. He was so sure he was going to faint before a voice cut through the fog and shocked him back into the present.

“Bilbo?”

“Do you know this… halfling, your majesty?” A snide voice sneered from the raised dais beside the throne.

“I do,” Thorin stated in a commanding voice that brokered no questions. Bilbo’s dwarf sat dignified on the stone throne, his right hand raised as if to reach out for the hobbit while the rest of him was still and imposing as ever. Decked out in heavy blues and silver, Thorin looked every inch a King, a sharp, heavy crown about his head only signifying his royalty. The beautiful glowing jewel placed above the King’s head into the throne adding a touch of surrealism to the whole situation. Bilbo stared, unable to talk or even move his mouth, taken aback by the image of _his_ Thorin actually _being_ King.  

“I think it’s time for a break,” Balin’s voice rang out loudly, and Bilbo started, blinking until his focus was no longer on Thorin.

“I think you are quite right, Master Balin. I’ve been hankering for a glass of wine since the talks of grape productions in the south, do you mind if we break for lunch.” Gandalf melted out of the shadows from behind the throne. The wizard’s tall figure striking a comical distinction between him and the dwarves milling around him, Gandalf being twice their height in plain grey robes and the dwarves wearing so much heavy jewelry it looked to be bogging them down. Bilbo couldn’t help but smile at the wizard, relieved to see a familiar face, for Thorin and Balin appeared as strangers to him in this setting.

“But the halfling--” the nasally voice cut off at the wizards glance, and Bilbo was finally able to drag his gaze away from Thorin and Gandalf to look at the obnoxious dwarf. He looked no older than Thorin himself, graying about the temples of his long brown hair, with a heavy brow and crooked nose, his beard braided into three plaits with a chain of golden bells tied about the ends. He might have been considered handsome in his youth but the frown lines and narrowed eyes leaned towards an unpleasant disposition and Bilbo didn’t much like the way he looked down at him. 

“We will convene in an hour’s time,” Thorin’s said, deep voice echoing in the atrium. Most of his council members looked happy to break for lunch, hobbling quickly towards the dining hall. Even the unpleasant one appeared relieved to leave his King and companions for a moment to rest.

Gandalf swept forward and pulled Bilbo off towards the side, heading to a hidden door off a side bridge that was hardly noticeable in the shadows. Bilbo glanced back at Thorin, but the dwarf was busy talking to the last of his advisors and council members who wanted to ask questions. Thorin gave Bilbo a small nod, as if to reassure him that he would follow and the tight knot in the hobbit’s chest loosened.

Bilbo then made the mistake of looking down and his stomach rolled as the sight of the steep drop again.  

The door actually led to a large room, very well furnished with a small fireplace and a large table that looked about able to hold thirty dwarves. The fire was already lit and there was a pitcher of water with a couple of glasses already set on the table as if expecting guests. The wizard pushed Bilbo into a chair, fussing about stained robes and ill-behaved hobbits.

“I won’t have you being sick on me just because you’re scared of some heights, Mister Baggins.”

Bilbo held his stomach and gritted his teeth, ignoring the cup of water Gandalf set before him. “I won’t throw--” Bilbo looked up, about to rebuke Gandalf’s accusation when his stomach gave another lurch. Just then, Thorin stormed into the room with Dwalin behind him, growling in Khuzdul and quickly pulling Bilbo into his arms.

 “Dwalin, explain yourself.” Thorin’s voice was muffled with Bilbo tucked so tightly against him, the hobbit clutching at the King’s robes as his stomach churned and his head still dizzy. It would serve Thorin right for Bilbo to lose his lunch all over the dwarf’s nice robe for yanking him around like that.

“Found this scamp wandering the halls asking for you, thought you might like to handle it.”

“Wasn’t wandering,” Bilbo muttered against the dwarf’s chest and abruptly there were fingers sliding through the hair at the back of his head. The touch eased some of his tension and his stomach didn’t feel so much like it was going to protest.

“No?” Bilbo could hear the laughter in Thorin’s voice and wanted to pinch him for it, but something about Thorin wearing a crown stopped him. Thorin pulled back enough to tip Bilbo’s chin up and look into his eyes. “Are you okay? I thought you were about to tumble right off the bridge.”

Keeping his eyes on Thorin, the hobbit nodded slowly. “It’s j-just so high up, we hobbits are not use to not having the earth under our feet. I thought I was going to be sick.”

Thorin’s gaze was heavy on the hobbit, looking him over and frowning at the greenish hue to his face. Tutting at him, Thorin urged Bilbo back into his seat, smoothing the hobbit’s hair and making him jerk when Thorin’s cold rings decorating his fingers grazed the shell of Bilbo’s ears. He made sure Bilbo was comfortable and even shrugged off his heavy blue robe to tuck around the hobbit’s legs, urging Bilbo to at least sip at his drink of water.

Bilbo instead traced the silver stitching with shaking fingers, still a bit timid about seeing Thorin in his rightful setting. The tiny glance that he’d gotten of Thorin on the throne, the dwarf had looked so natural and regal up there ruling his people. Bilbo didn’t know how he could ever think Thorin was too simpleminded to rule his Kingdom.

“Bilbo?” Thorin said gently, taking the hobbit’s hand in his.

“Sorry, my mind wandered,” Bilbo blushed, biting his lip. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your important assembly like that. I was planning to just write a letter, but Master Dwalin insisted otherwise.”

They both looked at the guard, leaning casually against the now roaring fireplace. Dwalin smirked and gave a little wave. Thorin said something in Khuzdul that had Gandalf raising an eyebrow and the other dwarf laughing.

“I do not mind the interruption,” Thorin said, turning back with a small smile tugging at his lips. “It is a nice reprieve from listening to tunnel disputes and lumber imports.”

“Oh,” Bilbo sighed, looking back down at his feet.

“What’s wrong?” Thorin’s tone suddenly turned concerned and he kneeled down so he could judge the hobbit’s expression.

“Nothing!” Bilbo said quickly, shaking his head and blushing.

Thorin frowned, his fingers stroking the hobbit’s knees. “You will not even look at me. I thought your anger had passed? Have I done something else to upset you?”

“No,” Bilbo squeaked, feeling so embarrassed when Dwalin and Gandalf both started chuckling.

“I will force you to leave,” Thorin snarled at them. His hands trying their best to sooth Bilbo who’d jumped at the loud noise, slipping up his thighs until he quickly snatched the hobbit’s hand’s in his. “Whatever it is Bilbo, just speak it. You have no reason to fear me.”

“I-I know,” Bilbo said. “Sorry, it’s just a shock. To see you dresses up.”

“Dressed up?” Thorin raised an eyebrow and looked down at his clothes. “Ah.”

“His majesty does possess a striking figure when he’s all prettied up,” Dwalin laughed.

“It is just ceremonial garbs, Bilbo.” Thorin flushed with indulgence, pressing Bilbo’s palm against his cheek. The short stubble scratched against the hobbit’s soft skin and made Bilbo squirmed. “Now, tell me. What has brought you into my Mountain? I am happy to see you, but curious to know what made you brave the crowds on a day like today.”

“Um, well….I just, I feel so silly for even thinking it, you are much too busy to go, I’m sure. It is nothing, forget I ever said anything.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin intoned gravely. “Is this about that invitation, to your cousin’s wedding?”

Bilbo nodded, looking up under his bangs at Thorin’s happy expression.

“I had meant to send Roäc at supper with my reply. I would love to attend this ceremony with you,” Thorin said. “I have never been to a hobbit wedding before. I’m sure it will be an exciting experience.”

“But you have the Durin’s day feast to handle,” Bilbo spoke, worried that Thorin would be neglecting his duties to indulge Bilbo’s fancy. He could never do that to Thorin or his people. “I cannot ask you to abandon your people to entertain my whims.” 

“Well, considering how close the Shire is to Erebor, I would think the King was being very diligent of his duties by attending a prominent hobbit family’s celebration,” Gandalf spoke up, puffing at his pipe. “Why, it’s very diplomatic of him, keeping up good relations with the Shire-folk.”

Thorin’s smile grew, his hands tightening around Bilbo’s. “See, I am just being very thorough of my duties. I cannot spend all my time entertaining elves and men.”

Bilbo laughed. “I see then. Well, as this will be your first time a’visting a hobbit festival, you will need an escort. I would like to offer my services, if his majesty would allow?” 

“I accept.” Thorin leaned forward and kissed Bilbo’s hand. “I will be most likely confused and befuddled by your people’s way, so having a companion accompany me is a wise plan.” Thorin smirked, “To think I will have the admirable Mister Baggins as my escort, I shall be the envy of the party. I will need to know the date and time I am expected, and we will work something out.”

Bilbo tried not to giggle too much like a flustered maid, but Thorin was so ridiculous when he tried to tease him.

Sensing movement about the room, Bilbo looked away from Thorin’s intense blue-grey eyes and noticed they’d gained an audience of sorts. Balin and Glóin had joined them, tea trays in hand filled with food and large smiles about their faces. Dwalin and Gandalf were still where they’d been, watching with curious expressions as their King flirted with the hobbit.

“Oh,” Bilbo squeaked, drawing Thorin’s attention to where he looked. The dwarf quickly got to his feet, still holding Bilbo’s hand in his. Thorin’s looked nonplussed by the watchers, probably tolerable of them because they were friends. The others all shared a look and then shrugged before heading to the table to set up lunch.

Gandalf gave Bilbo a wink, “Now that’s settled, let us eat. I was not being glib about that glass of wine.”

Thorin took the seat at the head of the table, making sure Bilbo was to his right and Gandalf across from the hobbit. Balin took the seat on Bilbo’s other side, and Dwalin beside him, while Glóin the seat beside the wizard. Even though he’d already had lunch once today, Bilbo was a hobbit, so there was always enough room in his stomach for more. He munched on meat pies and greens, watching Thorin curiously as the dwarf ate with surprisingly good manners.

The dwarf sat at the dinner table much like he’d sat on the throne. Maybe it was just the ceremonial garb and crown that did something to Thorin that made him appear statelier than usual, unlike the ordinary dwarf Bilbo had known. Not that the dwarf didn’t look regal when he was in his thick heavy wools and leathers, but there was just something about seeing him like this that took Bilbo’s breath away. The knowledge that this dwarf here was a King and wanted Bilbo of all people. With the lanterns making the fine stitching shimmer under the pale light, the tiny beads about his hair glittered like stars in the night sky, the heavy chainmail polished sparkling bright gold with the reflection of the fire, and the flushed, happy expression on Thorin’s face all stole Bilbo’s breath away, and his heart swelled with love for the dwarf.

Bilbo suddenly felt protective of Thorin, even here in the Mountain’s where guards and loyal dwarves dwelled around every corner. Somehow Eru had blessed Bilbo to be the one to cherish the heart of this dwarf, and he’d do all in his power to care for him. As powerful and majestic as Thorin was dressed, it was that content expression of joy that Bilbo felt really deserved looking after. No crown or fur coat could place that there, only the simple pleasures of good friends, healthy family, and fine food.

“What?” Thorin’s brows furrowed as he wiped his lips with his napkin.

“Hmm?” Bilbo blinked, almost stabbing himself in the cheek with his fork. He’d been too busy watching the dwarf to even pay attention to his meal. How un-hobbit like of him! 

“You are watching me.”

“Oh,” Bilbo flushed. “Sorry, I hadn’t meant to. I was mostly thinking to myself.”

Thorin smirked, “About what?”

“Nothing!” Bilbo squeaked, almost dropping his fork against the sturdy earthenware.

Gandalf chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a knowing spark. “Tell me Bilbo, which two lucky hobbits will have the King of Erebor in attendance to their wedding?”

Balin looked up quickly. “Oh? I hadn’t known Thorin was going to a hobbit wedding? Is he going to officiate?”

“You can do that?” Bilbo glanced quickly at Thorin.

Thorin shrugged, “I am King, I can do anything. Usually the Magistrates handles unions of such types, but sometime the nobler houses can request I perform the duties or there are special occasions. My father officiated at my sister’s wedding.”

“How fascinating,” Bilbo smiled. That must be nice, having family not only there at the ceremony to witness but performing it for you.

“Ha!” Dwalin scoffed, “You don’t know the whole story. Lady Dis never much liked the idea of a fancy wedding and kept putting it off, if it wasn’t for the quick thinking on Thráin’s part, Fili would have been born out of wedlock. She’s still not forgiven her father for doing it while she was in labor, they took her howls of birthing rage as consensus to perform it right there. Heptifili has to be extra careful around their anniversary.”

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo gasped. He wasn’t sure how he should feel about that. He could sort of empathize with the distaste for an overly extravagant wedding, but to do it at such a time! Surely there was a moment before then to perform the duty?

The other’s talked more on the subject, about Fili’s birth and Heptifili’s bravery for holding her hand during that dreadful time. Thorin laughed unkindly when he talked about the other dwarf’s broken fingers that he received from Dis, thinking them deserving for defiling his sister like that. Bilbo shook his head, wondering at the odd relationship between Thorin and his brother-in-law when he glanced up and caught Gandalf’s gaze.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I forgot your question,” Bilbo said. “The wedding is for my cousin Otho Baggins to Lobelia Bracegirdle. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you showing up for the ceremony, especially if you still make those wonderful fireworks.”

The wizard smiled enigmatically, “I am sure it will be a happy affair but I have other responsibility to see to.”  

Bilbo’s grin dropped, he’d actually been looking forward to the idea of fireworks. He hadn’t seen any since the Old Took turned a hundred thirty and he’d been hardly a babe. It might be something of a premature thought, but maybe he could talk the wizard into making some for his own wedding?

Eventually conversations wore down and lunch was finished, Gandalf asked Balin if he would like to see something he’d found in the library this morning and Dwalin ushered Glóin out the room rather quickly with an excuse of seeing Gimli around a certain elf last he saw, and before long Bilbo was left alone with Thorin.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, sighing happily.

Thorin raised an eyebrow and leaned towards the hobbit with his elbow on the table. “What for?”

“Coming to the wedding with me, I know its last minute…”

The dwarf shook his head. “Think nothing of it. I am rather happy that you invited me, after all that has happened.”

Bilbo swallowed thickly, knowing this was the time to tell Thorin his decision. Sitting straight and moving his chair closer to the dwarf’s, Bilbo looked Thorin in the eye. “I know I made you worried that I would turn you away, despite my love for you. And I have thought long and hard about it. I appreciated the time you gave me to think, and I have come to the decision.”

Thorin looked to be holding his breath.

“I d-do love you Thorin,” Bilbo continued. “Whether you’re a guard or a King, I’d rather be at your side than not at all. I might just be a gentlehobbit, not made out for being a Consort or such, but for you I’m willing to try. You cannot get angry if I mess up or cause some political mishap by my ignorance though, I said I would try, not that I would be perfect! And another thing, Bag End, I must be able to--”

The hobbit was cut off as Thorin stood and pulled him into his arms, nearly squeezed the breath right out of Bilbo. Thorin’s laughing almost sounding like sobs, muffled against Bilbo’s shoulder as he hugged him. He gently tried to pat the dwarf on the back, unsure for a moment what he should do as Thorin’s crown was stabbing him in the neck.

Finally Thorin moved back enough it wasn’t so uncomfortable to be near each other. “You will permit me to carry on courting you?”  

Bilbo scoffed, “Of course! Did I not just say--”

“I had not wanting to be presumptuous,” Thorin said, straightening his crown as it started to lag to one side. Quickly, his hands were back on Bilbo’s waist and moving the hobbit closer. “I hoped, from your letter that things would be okay and Dis informed me to have trust in you, but I still feared in the dark caverns of my mind you might hate me and never forgive me.”

“No, no, no,” Bilbo said sternly, wagging his finger at the dwarf. “I could never hate you, maybe irritated and sometime driven spare, but never hate. I want you Thorin, Kingship or not, I just want to be with you and love you without restraint. I just… I’m nervous, there’s a lot of unexpected responsibility that will come along if we continue down this path, things I’m not fully prepared for. But we will have time, hopefully, for me to learn? I want to do what’s best for you and your people. I am just unsure if I am the best candidate for this task.”

“You are the best,” Thorin reassured him, eyes soft as they met Bilbo’s. “There can be no one better.”

Bilbo smiled back. “You are a silly dwarf.”

“Maybe,” Thorin said with a large smile, and then leaned forward to kiss his hobbit.    

  

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hobbit’s say birthday ages different, like 129 as twelve nine. Thirteen zero though didn’t have quite the right ring to it so I figured there might be exceptions for ages that end in zero.  
> No wedding party yet =( Timeline wouldn’t allow it, instead we get this and the start of Durin’s Day next chapter (hopefully- these things seem to take a mind of their own). Spoiler for next chapter: Thranduil. Don’t hold me to it, but I think it’s about time he made an appearance.


	18. The Games Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Durin’s day begins and Thorin has even more reason to hate elves. Olo falls in love and Thranduil invites himself to a party.

****

The start of the Durin’s Day week long holiday started off with a bang.

At first light, there was a mighty blow of the horns from the Mountain, an answering one from Dale, and then a distant one from forest of Mirkwood barely heard by any who weren’t quiet and knew to listen. Everyone knew this was the moment the Elvenking Thranduil had left his Kingdom in the forest and journey forth to Erebor through the city of Men. Even the hobbit’s abandoned their chores to rush to the main roads and watch. Gasping and giggling at the bright colors and regal clothes of the nobles traveling towards the Lonely Mountain.

There was a large procession, from Mirkwood through Esgaroth to Dale, from Dale to the gates of Erebor. The elves led the spectacle with Thranduil, the Elvenking, at the front, easy to spot with his oddly shaped crown of wood and leaves, sitting regally atop his white elk as his people followed behind him. Most elves traveled on docile horses carrying banners, dressed in the finest garb ever seen with their circlet’s sparkling silver in the sun, moving like fish in a stream, with no acknowledgement of their audience and eyes intent on their destination. A small group of elven musicians played flutes and harps as they journeyed, the other’s humming softly along as they glided over the rocky roads with such ease it was like they were floating. It was probably the most extraordinary and dreamlike thing the hobbits had ever seen. 

The Master of Laketown and King Bard lead the second parade of human soldiers and dancers, marching and playing music as the Lord and Ladies walked behind them and waved to the commoners watching them from the wayside. It was an impressive display, the dancers throwing flower petals and singing in high tones as they skipped along the edges of the roads, the soldiers dressed in their shining armor and walking in perfect formation. It wasn’t as ethereal at the elves, but the merriment and grandeur of their party excited the humans and hobbit’s watching them.

Bilbo watched with Odo and Olo Proudfoot under an oak tree, clapping and singing along when a familiar tune was played and laughing at the jugglers. There was a loud beating of drums from the Mountain the closer the Kings got to it, until finally King Thranduil, King Bard, and the Master of Laketown halted outside the doors and all the music ceased. Too far away to hear anything and the crowd much too thick to even try to push through, Bilbo walked back towards Tuckborough with his relatives, wanting to eat before the games began.

It had become something of a consensus with the hobbits that they would at least celebrate the last day of the Durin’s Day feasts with the outsiders, the other days would be spent celebrating in the Shire. Supposedly the Thain had received an invitation from an advisor of the Mountain on behalf of the King of Erebor for all the hobbits to join the dwarves for the coronation, and what hobbit would deny a King his request.

“I’m not really all that sure about what these games entail, but it shouldn’t hurt to watch,” Odo said, helping Olo with his plate, letting the little hobbit pick his fare as his father piled the food onto the fine china. The Thain had set up a nice buffet for the hobbits, wanting everybody to have a share and enjoy the start of the holiday.

“I hear there’s sword fighting and such,” Bilbo answered through a mouthful of squash. He’d planned to go watch Thorin’s sword fighting today, while some of the other hobbits planned to attend the events later this week. “I think there are competitions to see whose best with their weapons of choice.”

“Oh, like conkers!” Odo sounded excited at the prospect. He was Bilbo’s biggest opponent when they were tweens, and often they were found in the field practicing until their mothers called them home. It seemed old rivalries didn’t dim with age. 

Bilbo laughed, “Somehow I doubt it.”

“Shame,” the other hobbit sighed. “It will probably be boring then.”

In the Great Smails of Tookland, the hobbits had created a feast for the family, inviting all the relatives and distant relations to celebrate with them. Paladin Took II had taken to proudly showing off his letter from the great Master Balin, High Steward and Advisor to the King. Bilbo had nodded along with the others when the Thain had come by their table, making the appropriate ‘oohs and aahs’ at the delicate handwriting and red-waxed royal seal, trying not to giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation. He had a letter from Thorin in his pocket that he received just yesterday, sloppily written in blue ink, detailing how much he missed his hobbit and couldn’t wait to see him again. Thorin had also tried his hand at poetry again, but still, that would seem to be one craft the dwarf would need some improvement on.

“I’m sure you’re excited to see the elves. You get a good look at that one on the elk, I thought he was a woman at first. Wearing that long silk dress and flowered crown,” Odo said, after Paladin had wandered off to show Celandine and Primula Brandybuck his prize.

Bilbo paused to gap at the other hobbit. “That’s the Elvenking Thranduil, and it wasn’t a skirt he was wearing!”

“Sure looked like it to me.”

“It-it was a long tunic and robe!” Bilbo flustered, flabbergasted by his friends absurdity.    

“My wife doesn’t have a robe that pretty,” Odo huffed, seemingly offended on her behalf for some reason.    

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Enough about the way they dressed. What are your plans for today?”

“I told Otho I’d help with the final preparations, they’re stringing lanterns from the party tree this afternoon and fencing off the area. The missus and I are also heading over to the Bracegirdle residence later to help with the food preparations.”

Nodding along, Bilbo looked towards Olo. “What about you sweetling, what’s your plans?”

Olo pouted, “I wanted to see the sword fighting, but papa won’t let me.”

“Your right I won’t,” Odo said. “You’re much too young to go alone, and your mom and I are too busy to see after you today. You’ll be spending time at the Brandy Hall with all the other littluns.”

“I’m not a baby!” Olo shouted, sulking into his cup of cider.

Odo wagged a finger at his boy, “Now see here--”

“If its okay, he can come with me,” Bilbo interrupted, knowing it wasn’t polite to intervene when a parent was scolding a child, but not wanting things to escalate if they didn’t have to. Olo was a sweet boy and Bilbo didn’t mind looking after him for the afternoon. It would actually be reassuring to have another hobbit with him, however small they were, while he searched for his friends and watched the games. The others would be less likely to make fun of his ignorance of things if there was a child there to also ask questions.

“I couldn’t ask that of you Mister Baggins,” Odo said, ignoring his son’s excited nodding.

“Its fine,” Bilbo waved him off. “I’m just going to see the sword fighting and maybe the archery, we won’t be long. He’d be bored at Brandy Hall with all the others anyways and this way you know the Brandybuck rascals won’t be talking him into mischief.”

Odo tapped at his chin, thinking on it. “That Saradoc and Seredic are a bunch of hoodlums.”

“Please papa,” Olo tugged on his father’s sleeves. “I promise to be good for Mister Baggins, I won’t run of or nothing!”

The older hobbit looked between his son and Bilbo, “Fine. But you listen to Mister Baggins, no running off or talking back. You also don’t go begging him to buy things for you.”

Olo cheered, holding his fork and spoon high in the air over his head. Bilbo laughed, tousling the youngling’s hair. “We’ll have some right fun won’t we!”

 ***

Bilbo was having a horrible time. Poor little Olo clung to his trousers, both hobbit’s trying not to be trampled by all the tall folk pushing past and not watching near as enough where they were going.

There were tents and stalls set up all around them, full of merchant and traders selling their wares, even a couple of food venders were scattered about. The dwarves had set up a nice street faire of shops and mercantile around the gaming field, selling things from leather work to weapons, things the dwarves were very proficient in. The humans and elves had also set up tents, calling out for people to stop and inspect their goods, the majority of things dwarves weren’t want to get.

Bilbo and Olo walked through the rows of shops, trying to peak at the items for sale without garnering the attentions of the unrelenting shopkeepers. The one time they were caught by a candlemaker, Bilbo had somehow found himself buying a pocket full of honeyed-wax tapers with no idea how it happened. Olo had giggled until Bilbo had explained he’d only brought so much money for lunch and then the young hobbit had taken to being more stealthy in their browsing.

Bilbo had hoped to find some of his dwarf friends either milling about enjoying the festivities or selling their works. Bofur had told him that Bifur would have a shop selling the wooden toys he made and the hobbit had hoped to take Olo by to pick a toy out, but in all the mess and confusion of the crowd around them it was almost impossible to navigate where he wanted. The dwarves were somewhat nicer because of their similar size, but the humans and elves often pushed past the hobbits with nary a thought about shoving them aside.

Bilbo squeaked when some human lady in a voluminous yellow skirt trampled by, nearly bowling both hobbits over into the mud. Thankfully, there was a nice elf lady to catch them.

“You two alright?”

“Yes, yes, so sorry to bother,” Bilbo stuttered, looking up and up until his eyes met the pale-blue eyes of the Silvan elf. With flaming red hair and pale skin, high cheekbones and delicate looking hands, one would expect to see her in a flowing robe like the others, except instead she wore a green tunic and trousers with leather guards.  

“Um…” Bilbo blinked up at her, taken aback.

“It must be difficult, being so small in this crowd,” she said, settling the hobbit back onto his feet.

“We are not small,” Bilbo bit out, “You are all just oversized. Not even a proper size, just excessively giant.”

The elf laughed into her hand, and the sound of it made Bilbo’s toes curl and Olo gasp. It sounded like twinkling bells, distant chimes on a sunny morning, or the twitter call of a robin. 

“Mr. Hobbit, I meant no insult. I am just stating that you must be having great difficulty navigating this faire.”

“We are trying to find the sword fighting,” Olo jumped in before Bilbo could correct her. He knew where they were going, they were heading towards the towering stands marked off for the competitions. It was just finding the entrance to the place that was the problem. Though it looked to be right in front of them, the shops and tables made the place into a maze, and sometimes they found themselves getting farther away instead of closer.

A loud horn blew, signaling the beginning of the seating for the games and making the hobbit jump. Bilbo had hoped to find a seat on the raised benches before it became too crowded, but it seemed he’d spent too much time shopping and missed his chance. Olo clung to Bilbo’s leg, looking shaken by the people hurrying quickly past.

The female elf smiled kindly down at them, “Do you need an escort Mr. Hobbit? I am heading to the games myself and your little one looks frightened.”

“He’s not mine,” Bilbo squeaked. “He’s my nephew, and I-- I wouldn’t want to be a bother. We can find our way just fine.”

“Indulge me,” she said lightly, setting a hand of Bilbo’s shoulder and leading them calmly through the throng of people trying to enter the arena. The humans and dwarves gave them room, shooting the elf looks between curious and suspicious, making way for them to easily drift through the crowd and towards the section roped off for the Mirkwood envoy.

Olo seemed particularly taken with the elf lady, looking up at her as he walked and bumping into Bilbo’s hip every other moment. “Are we going to sit with the elves?” He asked in excitement.

“Oh no--” Bilbo started to say but was cut off.

“Of course, where else would you get the best seats,” the elf lady said, nodding to the gold armored guards and pushing them towards the front row. Bilbo looked up from minding his step and saw Legolas waving at them.

“Mister Baggins! What a surprise!”

“Master Legolas, sir,” Bilbo stuttered, suddenly remembering that the elf was a Prince. What was up with all these people keeping their nobility secret lately? Was it some kind of fashion to not admit to royalty?

“Move over whelp,” the lady elf growled, kicking at the elf Prince’s ankle. “Your legs are too long.”

“Tauriel” Legolas groaned, moving his feet out of the way so the two hobbits could sit down in front. They had a clear view of the grounds, with only a stone’s throw from the fenced off edge, a perfect spot for two little hobbits to view the games without having to look over someone’s head.

“Mister Baggins, it is good to see you again,” Legolas said, smiling happily. Bilbo would admit he had gotten rather fond of the elf, though their acquaintance was brief. “How on Middle-Earth did you become unlucky enough to meet Mistress Tauriel?”

Bilbo fiddled with his jacket buttons, trying to ignore the group of elves seated behind the Prince watching them with curious expressions. “Um, well, she sort of saved us. Me and Olo here were trying to find our way and were almost trampled. Then she sort of wouldn’t take no for answer when we…” Bilbo paused, not wanting to bad-mouth the elf further. Luckily, Tauriel only smirked back at the raised eyebrow Legolas shot her.

“So what you’re saying is Miss Tauriel here absconded with the both of you.”

Olo giggled, earning an inquiring look from the elf prince. Bilbo sighed and tousled the young hobbit’s hair again.

“Who’s this then? I was unaware you had a son,” the Prince asked, holding a hand out for Olo to shake. “My name is Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of the Woodland Realm of Northern Mirkwood. I aided your father when he was looking for a stick.”

Bilbo glared at the elf, knowing for a fact that Legolas knew his ‘stick’ was for a lovespoon. Something Bilbo should probably get to working on with how fast things were going with Thorin.

“He’s my uncle,” Olo squeaked, wiggling under all the attention. Not paying a mind at all that Legolas was a Prince, too caught up in watching Tauriel make faces behind the Prince’s back. “We wanted to see the sword fighting.”

“I see,” Legolas nodded along. “Will you be staying for the archery contest? I will be participating and I would like to know I had _someone_ in the stands cheering for me.”

Tauriel elbowed the other elf. “You are just afraid to lose. The little one will obviously be rooting for the best. And that’s me.”

“Mistress Elf-lady will be in the contest!” Olo’s eyes widened in hope, and already Bilbo could see the crush the young hobbit was developing for the pretty elf. He supposed it was due course, for Bilbo had had a crush on a elf he’d spotted in the Dale markets when he was but a lad that age shopping with his mother. It had pretty much been a tradition, hobbit lads and lasses coming home with wild tales of their mysterious elven loves and how much prettier theirs were as compared to others.  

“ _Elf-lady_!” Legolas laughed, snorting into his hands. Tauriel scowled and hit him over the head before turning back to the hobbits.

“My name is Tauriel, little one. What is yours?”

“Olo Proudfoot,” the young hobbit said, puffing out his chest. “First son of Odo Proudfoot, from the Tuckborough in the Shire. Will you come visit me tomorrow Miss Tauriel? I promise to be a gentleman. Ma says we have to go to Miss Bracegirdle’s wedding, but if your there we won’t have to cuz we got visitors, and I don’t like her, she’s loud and doesn’t like us playing in her yard so I don’t want to go to her boring wedding. They won’t trouble us if we have a pretty lady like you visiting and it will make Rosy jealous and she won’t pick on me for not having a girl friend.”

“Olo!” Bilbo cried out in shock. The daring of a young one, inviting people over without talking to his parents first, and what’s this about not wanting to go to the wedding?

All the elves had gone silent around them, some looking about ready to burst from holding their breath for so long. Tauriel had turned about as red as her hair, mouth gaping open like a fish on land, and the Prince, Legolas, was clutching his sides trying not to laugh as Olo looked earnestly up at the female elf.

“I… well, wouldn’t you…” Tauriel stammered, her pointed ears turning pink.

Bilbo flicked the little hobbit’s nose. “Now don’t you going making a mess for your parents inviting guests over when they already have plans tomorrow. You should be a proper gentleman and write Miss Tauriel an invitation first, then wait to see if she has time in her busy schedule to visit.”

“But Mister Baggins,” Olo whined, slumping forwards in a pout. Some of the elves watching cooed at this, holding a hand over their hearts as they watched the young hobbit. Bilbo flushed under the scrutiny, wondering if the elves hadn’t children of their own and therefore knew not to be fooled by angelic faces.

Bilbo continued his scolding, “Lobelia and Otho went through a lot of trouble making sure there was enough room for everybody at the wedding, I happen to know she bought two cakes just in case there wasn’t enough. And what’s this about you being bored, when has a hobbit festival ever been boring!”   

“Hobbit festival?” A deep, velvety voice intoned behind Bilbo, causing the hobbits to startle and the elves to sit up straight. Thranduil, gliding past in silver finery, seemed to even hardly notice the hobbits amongst his people. He was taller than any elf Bilbo had ever seen, his crown lending him height probably greater than Gandalf’s, and he was so skinny every hobbit lass in the Shire would want to feed him to fatten him up. With his long pale blond hair and silver billowy robes that fluttered behind him as he gracefully walked, he was without a doubt the most beautiful of elves the hobbit had ever seen.

“Ada,” Legolas stood, letting the Elvenking pass on his way to his high seat. Part of the staged seating had been cut out to allow a throne of sorts, nothing fancy but with the cushions and drapery, it looked comfortable than sitting on the wooden benches. Two guards took up stance beside him, golden spears in hand and a grimace on their faces.

With Thranduil taking his seat, Bilbo perked up and looked at the other four thrones built. The large circled arena had been sectioned off into four areas, one for the Men of Laketown, another for the Men of Dale, then there was the elves, and across from them the dwarves of Erebor. Either because the dwarves were hosting the games or because Thorin was pretentious enough to order it done, the dwarves’ throne was higher than the others, almost overlooking the whole area. Bilbo could see clearly that King Bard and the Master of Laketown had taken their places, but Thorin’s chair was too far away and with the sun behind them it was hard to see if Thorin was also seated.

“Ada,” Legolas repeated. “This is Bilbo Baggins from the Shire, and his nephew Olo Proudfoot. We were just talking about how Tauriel should stop by to visit the little Mister Olo one day when she has the time.”

Thranduil looked coolly over their group, face expressionless as his pale blue eyes looked each of them over. Bilbo shivered under the inspection.

“I was unaware she was so busy?” Thranduil beckoned for a glass of wine.

“I am assigned as your personal guard the rest of the week, Sir,” Tauriel said, looking intently at the King.

Thranduil waved off her protest. “Take a day off then, visit the hobbits.”

Olo cheered, squirming in delight.

Legolas smirked at Tauriel, who smiled politely in return and subtly stepped on the Prince’s toes in revenge. “I’m sure I can find one day to visit, but I should hate to go alone. Would Prince Legolas like to come with me, I am afraid to get lost on the journey to the Shire and I have heard he is familiar with the route?”

Olo scowled, “But I only want Miss--”

Bilbo put a hand over the little hobbit’s mouth before he could insult royalty. “I’m sure the Shire would be delighted to host you all. While the wedding tomorrow is a private event, there is always a party later this week for anyone to join if you do not mind missing the fine festivities here.”

Thranduil, who Bilbo wouldn’t have expected to even be listening to them, tapped his chin in thought. The other elves were whispering amongst themselves and speaking in Sindarin, some nodding and looking excited at the prospect. Bilbo didn’t know how he was going to break it to the other hobbits that he’d accidently invited the whole Mirkwood party to one of the Shire’s festivals.

“I have not had many opportunities to celebrate with hobbits and I think I would like to see what it entails. Galion, tell me, is all my time taken up by dwarves or am I allowed a moment of peace among the gentle-folk,” Thranduil said, calling a pale green robed elf forward to make note of the invitation. The other elf looked anxious as he flipped through his schedule book, growing even more frantic as the King’s frown deepened the longer it took for him to find some free time.

There were discussions for a moment as they talked amongst themselves, Bilbo growing even more worried as things progressed. There was no way the others would forgive him for this, though Olo looked ready to pardon him anything as long as Tauriel was around, the hobbits were going to come at Bag End with pitchforks and rocks wanting to know why he’d put such a situation on them. Legolas at least gave Bilbo a sympathetic smile, most likely knowing the hobbit hadn’t meant to invite _everyone_.       

Then, as if the gods were answering Bilbo’s prayers, the horns blew again and the games were to begin.

The first people out were a mix of humans and dwarves, only one elf had decided to join the sword fighting tournament. They lined up in a row in the middle of the field, bowed to each three Kings and the Master of Laketown, and then all but two opponents filed off the arena. Thorin, who Bilbo could hardly catch a glimpse of across the way, raised his arm calling for silence and then swiped his hand downward for the fight to begin.

Legolas had moved down to sit beside Bilbo and tell him a bit about what was happening and who was fighting, drawing both hobbits attention when he pointed out skilled warriors and their past deeds. The elf fighting, Legolas said was Gildor Inglorion, a Noldorian elf of the house Finrod who traveled to Mirkwood some years past for a visit and never found time to leave since. He was a tall elf, muscular in build with hair color as dark brown as an elf could be, wearing armor as green as the spring grass and wielding a sword thinner than the others, but twice their length. Legolas said he was rumored to have bested Haldir once in competition, but none could confirm.

Gildor’s first opponent was a human, some grizzly looking fellow with a heavy sword he could barely lift. It was a fast fight.

The next two opponents were also human, which Gildor quickly disarmed before his break while two dwarves took to the field. Bilbo watched, trying to find the differences in the fighting techniques as Olo squeaked at every near fatal blow. The point of the competition wasn’t to kill one other, but to disarm the opponent or to put the challenger into a position to force them to surrender. There was actually very little bloodshed and Bilbo didn’t mind having the young hobbit observe if that was the case.

They watched for a long while and eventually the contenders were dwindled down to just two, Gildor of course, then there was Thorin, who hadn’t participated in a match yet but would be defending his champion title. Thranduil made mutterings about it not being fair as Gildor was most likely tired by all the fighting and Thorin wanting an easy fight, but even the Elvenking sat up when Thorin entered the arena.

The crowd cried out in high spirits, the dwarves and humans hollering and yelling in excitement, some even singing a small tune about the might of Erebor. The dwarf King ignored it all, tightening his shield buckles as he eyed the elf warrior over. Thorin looked mightily handsome, in silver and blue armor, carrying his oddly shaped sword Bilbo had only seen him with once, and looking ready for battle. His hair still had his customary braids, but the loose hair was tied back in a low ponytail, showing off Thorin’s high cheekbones and pointed nose, and instead of a crown Thorin wore a plain golden circlet about his head.

Bilbo was at the edge of his seat, Olo was on his feet jumping up and down, and even Legolas was tense in anticipation. When Thorin raised his sword the stands went suddenly hushed.

Gildor bowed and Thorin gave a small nod back. There was an overwrought quiet moment, then, as if a snake striking at a mouse, Gildor stuck out with his long sword. The dwarf easily blocked with his shield, then parried another blow. Over and over the elf struck out, never giving Thorin a chance to fight back, only able to block the vicious attack.

“Smart,” Legolas commented. “Keeping him in defense.”

“Isn’t it bad to try to hurt the King?” Olo asked innocently, hands over his ears at the sound the warriors made as their weapons were blocked.

Tauriel leaned forward and wrapped a scarf she pulled from her neck around the little hobbit’s head, easily covering his pointed ears. “Usually yes, but Prince Thorin has joined the competition to test his mettle. Gildor is allowed to attack as long as he means no real harm.”

“Ah,” Olo blushed, blinking up at the elf lady with wide eyes, but Tauriel had already gone back to watching the fight and he sighed forlornly.

Bilbo was biting his nails, wiggling in his seat as his heart beat erratically in his chest. Part of him wanted it to be over as fast as it could, if only so he’d know Thorin was okay, but another part wanted Thorin to win even more. He wanted to see what his dwarf could do, to see the skill and strength Thorin boasted of. Bilbo personally wouldn’t be upset if Thorin lost, but he knew his dwarf well enough by now that Thorin would be disappointed if _he_ was beaten. And so Bilbo prayed to Eru that Thorin would win, not wanting to cheer aloud for the dwarf in case the elves around him took offense that he was rooting against their companion.  

Gasping in fright when one strong blow sent Thorin to his knees, Bilbo covered his eyes, so sure that Thorin was about to lose and not wanting to watch. This way, if Thorin asked if he had seen the fight he couldn’t say he saw him be defeated.

Legolas put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, his Majesty seems to have gained his strength back.”

Peeking through his fingers, Bilbo saw that indeed what the elf Prince said was true. Thorin was now hacking and thrusting his sword forward until Gildor was forced back. The dwarf King did some move that had him twirling about and swiping at the elf’s feet, causing Gildor to stumble back and trip over his own heavy shield. While on the ground, Gildor kicked out and Thorin almost fell to his knees again, but he jumped over the fallen elf and rolled back to his feet. In the next blink of an eye, they were again clashing swords.  

“He knows how to fight those taller than him,” Legolas said, eyes focused on the battle.

“Of course he does,” Thranduil answered back, sipping leisurely at his wine. It almost seemed as if the Elvenking had no interest in the match, except his eyes never left Thorin’s form no matter which way his head was turned.

Thorin roared as he continued to rain blows against the elf’s shield, the loud clanging of metal against metal rang in Bilbo’s ear the closer and closer they got to the elf side of the arena. Finally, when Gildor had been forced to abandon his shield and stumble to his knees, Thorin hit the elf with the point of his elbow, knocking Gildor over. The elf’s blade slipped from his fingers and Gildor hung his head in defeat.

The crowd went wild once again. Even the elves were on their feet applauding, the dwarves crying out Thorin’s name until the whole arena was chanting it. Thorin yelled out in Khuzdul, thrusting his sword in the air as he walked in a circle looking the audience over. Victorious and champion once again.

Then, Thorin spotted Bilbo. A smile broke out across the dwarf’s dirt smudged face, stray bits of loosened hair clinging to his sweaty neck, as his eye’s sparked with triumph. Bilbo felt like his very breath was stolen away, time slowing down as they looked at each other across the field and held each other’s gaze. Heart swelling with love and something a lot like pride, Bilbo bit his lips to contain the grin he gave the dwarf back, clapping along with the others and containing his shouts of joy. Had he sat with the dwarves, his want of excited jumping and loud hoots of victory wouldn’t be unseemly, but the elves showed no more excitement than applauding the winner.

Olo tugged at his arm. Bilbo blinked and looked down.

“Did the elf lose?”

“I am afraid he did this round Mister Proudfoot, but there are always more competitions and his Majesty cannot win every fight” Thranduil said, voice clear through the muffled roar of the crowd. Olo nodded like it made sense, but his brows were furrowed in confusion. Bilbo looked up at the Elvenking and saw that his penetrating gaze was now focused on him. Bilbo tensed, unsure why he was being so scrutinized.

When Bilbo looked back towards the field, Thorin was storming quickly towards the exit. The echoing roar of the crowd following him. 

 ***

Bilbo held Olo’s hand as they waited their turn to leave the arena. The next game wasn’t going to be for a while, so everybody was heading towards the vendors to eat. Tauriel said something about a small feast set aside for the elves that Bilbo and his nephew were welcome to join, but the hobbit wanted to find his friends he’d promised to meet up with. Though his stomach growled at the thought of food Bilbo desired more than anything a chance to see Thorin before he got too busy.

Bilbo looked up and saw a mass of red hair pushing through the crowd and heading towards them. Gimli scowled when he caught sight of the hobbit waiting with the elves.

“Mister Baggins,” the dwarf grumbled. “A moment of your time.”

Legolas stopped short, smile widening as he looked the young dwarf over. “Master Gimli, I think you’ve grown shorter since I last saw you.”

“S-shorter!” Gimli sputtered, hands reaching for his axe. “I’ll show you shorter when I cut you off as the knees!”

Thranduil gave his son a look, raising a cool eyebrow. “ _Really_ , Legolas.”

Legolas shrugged, looking indifferent to his father’s aghast expression. The Elvenking rolled his eyes and suddenly Bilbo was reminded of every exasperated parent he’d ever met. It appeared that even elves were annoyed by their children every once in a while.

Bilbo pulled Olo with him, grabbing onto Gimli’s arm to stop the dwarf from charging the Prince. “Right, well, it was nice meeting you and many thanks for letting us sit with you. Miss Tauriel, we appreciate all your help, and Prince Legolas, thank you for your commentary. I would have been quite lost without either of you. Your Majesty,” Bilbo bowed towards Thranduil. “It was a pleasure.”

“Yes, it was,” Thranduil said, smiling softly at the hobbit. “I am looking forward to this party you invited us all to, Mister Baggins. I think you and I will get along splendidly.”

The hobbit gulped, “Y-yes, um, send a letter to the Thain and we’ll work something out. We hobbit would enjoy all your company.”

The Elvenking nodded, gesturing for Galion to write something down. With one last goodbye to Tauriel and Legolas, Bilbo quickly dragged Gimli and Olo away. Once they were far enough the two were no longer fighting him to get back to the elven party, Bilbo released the dwarf to let him lead the way.

“Why you consorting with those types Mister Baggins,” Gimli muttered, huffing with every backward glance.

Bilbo sighed, “They were kind enough to offer us a seat, Mister Gimli.”

Olo pouted, leaning his head against Bilbo’s hip. “I miss Miss Tauriel already.”

“I know you do sweetling, but it seems you’ll be seeing her soon enough.” Bilbo pinched at the little hobbit’s cheeks. “This gives you time to prepare for her visit, you’ll have to take a bath and clean up real nice, then maybe help with the decorations. We want them elves to be impressed with the Shire don’t we? So they’ll return.”

“Yes!” Olo jumped, ignoring their dwarf guide’s groaning. Gimli led them to a large blue tent with armored guards stationed all around the parameter. They wouldn’t let them past at first, until Balin stuck his head out the entrance and waved them through.

“Thank Mahal you’re here lad, I think he’s about to erupt.”

“Who?” Both Bilbo and Olo asked at once.

Balin raised an eyebrow at the little hobbit, “Who’s this now?”

“I’m his nephew! Olo Proudfoot is my name!” Olo smiled, showing off his gap tooth. “Who are you?”

“I am Balin, son of Fundin.” The elderly dwarf bowed. “I am at your service little Master. Would you like something to eat while your uncle talks with my friend?”

Olo tugged at Bilbo’s arm. “Can I Mister Baggins? My tummy’s growling.”

Bilbo passed the young hobbit over, trusting the dwarf to take care of Olo. “Yes, be good though and mind your manners.”

Balin nodded towards a curtained off area. “He’s through there.”

“Right.” Bilbo straitened his jacket and dusted his sleeves. He had no reason to be scared to see Thorin and for what reason could the dwarf King be angry? Gathering his courage, Bilbo marched through the curtains and walked right into Thorin’s arms.

“Halfling,” Thorin growled, burying his head against Bilbo’s shoulder.

With his arms around Thorin, the hobbit let the dwarf lean into him and took most of his weight. Thorin looked tired, his brow still sweaty and his hair messy, only halfway out of his armor and his feet bare. Bilbo ran a soothing hand up and down his back, humming softly as he kissed Thorin’s temple and ear.

“You were magnificent,” Bilbo whispered, thinking about Thorin’s fight. “I’ve never seen anything so amazing.”

“Do not flatter me Mister Baggins,” Thorin mumbled, rubbing his nose against Bilbo’s jacket. “I am angry with you for keeping company with the enemy.”

“The _enemy_?” Bilbo laughed, pulling Thorin’s head up so he could look at him. “You are just being silly now. They’re not orcs. Tauriel and Legolas were just being nice to two small hobbits, I’m afraid we wouldn’t have been able to see anything if they hadn’t offered us seats so close.”

Thorin leaned his head against Bilbo’s, mulishly frowning at the hobbit. “You did not see the way Thranduil watched you. I should gouge his eyes out for looking at you that way.”

Bilbo laughed loudly, overtaken with mirth at the dwarf’s unreasonable jealously. Surely Thorin didn’t think that Thranduil, of all people, would ever be interested like that in Bilbo. That was just absurd!

“Thorin, love, you are mad.” Bilbo wiped at the dwarf’s dirty face with his sleeve. “If anything you should be thankful to the elves, I wouldn’t have been able to see you win if it wasn’t for them.”

Thorin breathed loudly then leered roguishly, “I did win.”

“You did,” Bilbo smiled back, amused by Thorin’s smug attitude towards his victory. 

The dwarf raised an eyebrow, “Where is my reward for winning?”

“Oh,” Bilbo laughed. “I see how it is. All those sayings about dwarves being greedy must be true. Here the King is asking for rewards when he is already crowned a champion.”

“I am only greedy for your attention,” Thorin growled, tugging the hobbit closer. His body was hot, burning like he was running a fever, and he scorched Bilbo with his touch. Bilbo gasped, making it easy for Thorin to pull him into a kiss, moaning in ecstasy as their lips touched. The short beard on Thorin’s chin rubbed harshly against the hobbit’s soft skin, but he didn’t care. He tugged on Thorin’s braids instead, standing on his toes so he could reach and better angle his head to deepen the kiss.

Thorin huffed, pulled back with a wet pop before bending his knees and scooping the hobbit into his arm, forcing Bilbo to wrap his legs around the dwarf’s waist and be carried like a child. Bilbo barely let out a breathy “Thorin” before they were kissing again, moaning and growling at each other in turns. Thorin’s hand squeezed at his thighs, fingers digging into the fleshy muscles and holding the hobbit against him. Bilbo groaned, leaning forward until his stomach pressed tightly against Thorin’s and swooping down to continue his exploration of the dwarf’s mouth, and then peppering kisses down Thorin’s chin and to his neck, sucking bruises into the sweaty skin under Thorin’s jaw.

Bilbo gasped when Thorin bit the lobe of his pointed ear, sparks of want shooting down his spine and curling in his toes. He’d never… he’d never felt something this heady before, thrilling and exhilarating in the simple pleasure of being in Thorin’s arms again. To kiss and touch each other without thought of the consequences, just wanting to be together and enjoy the other’s attention.

“Mister Baggins, what are you doing?” Olo asked, standing at the entry and staring at them with a cookie in hand. He munched casually on his treat, blinking huge green eyes at his uncle crawling all over a dwarf.

Bilbo squawked, pushing back from Thorin and forgetting that he was in the dwarf’s arm. Thorin gasped, tightening his hold around Bilbo’s as they swayed for a moment, sure that they were about to topple over. Once things were settled again, Thorin allowed Bilbo to slip down, his shirt snagging on Thorin’s belt.

“Um, sorry Olo, what?” Bilbo flustered, letting Thorin unhook the mess their clothes had gotten into. He felt so silly, acting like a tween caught doing something he shouldn’t by his mother. Olo was just a child, he wouldn’t understand exactly what he saw and if he did, Bilbo could bribe him into secrecy with sweets.

“Did he have a boo-boo?”

“W-what?” Bilbo slapped the dwarf’s hands away when he took too long and just yanked their clothes apart, uncaring that his shirt ripped.  

Olo nibbled on another cookie. “You were kissing his boo-boo better weren’t you?”

Thorin and Bilbo both started nodding frantically. “Y-yes that’s right. Of course I was, Thorin just got a little boo-boo on his face, that’s exactly what I was doing. You are so smart Olo!”

“Oh. Okay,” Olo stated, then turned back around and walked out of the partition to find more cookies.

Thorin chuffed, looking up at the ceiling and trying not to laugh. “A _boo-boo_.”

“Stop it, he’s a child.” Bilbo swatted at him, pulling his shirt out so he could look at the tear. It wasn’t too bad, a bit of thread would fix it right up and no one would be the wiser.

Suddenly Thorin was pulling Bilbo towards him again, big hands on the hobbit’s hip as he snuck a leg between Bilbo’s. “I have another boo-boo you might want to kiss.” Making it obvious what exactly he was referring to when he pressed his hips close.

Bilbo turned beat red and smacked the dwarf on the chest. “Thorin!”

 

****           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> girlfriends/boyfriends are probably a modern concept, so Olo literally meant girl-friend. Also, Olo knowing that Thorin’s King (and not really caring) will be explained. Olo only cares about elves if you couldn’t tell.  
> This story just keeps growing, I hadn't meant for Bilbo to invite Thranduil to a hobbit party. That's going to be another chapter, and thats not even counting how Thorin's going to react to that news. *sighs*


	19. Unreasonable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch is not normally such an exciting affair.

****

 

Thorin reached for Bilbo but the hobbit squirmed away laughing.

“Thorin!”

“Bilbo, why do you run away,” the dwarf smirked, knowing exactly why the hobbit wouldn’t get near. It was bad enough that Olo had seen them and now Thorin wanted to continue even though they’d already been caught!

Almost tripping over Thorin’s discarded shield, Bilbo wagged a finger at Thorin. “No. No, no, no. Stop it, get yourself under control.”

Thorin laughed, “Under control? I am perfectly under control.”

“Well, you just,” Bilbo gestured towards the dwarf’s trouser. “Get a hold of that. I’m not getting anywhere near it for a while now.”

Biting his lips, Thorin looked unable to contain himself. His cheeks were flushed red in merriment and his eyes sparked with mischief. Bilbo looked at him and could see the young dwarf Thorin might have been, the lighthearted and misbehaved child and the carefree adult he may perhaps have grown into and still had the chance to be. Suddenly the moment went from heated to playful and Thorin stalked the hobbit like a cat would a mouse. “You, want me, to get _a hold of myself_?”  

“Y-yes,” Bilbo stated, not wanting to get caught up into whatever game Thorin was playing. He put his hands on his hips and looked fiercely at the dwarf, showing Thorin he would stand his ground.

“Fine,” Thorin shrugged, stopping his pursuit and leaning almost too casually against a desk arranged in the middle of the room. “Would you like to watch?”

“Watch what?” Bilbo blinked, trying not to let his eyes linger down the dwarf’s attractive body. The way Thorin just relaxed against the furniture, his legs crossed and thigh muscles bulging, how the thin, almost translucent, shirt clung to the dwarf’s body like a second skin, the rise of Thorin’s chest as he breathed deeply, the dirt peppering over the dwarf’s arms and hands, and how the skin exposed to the air glistening with sweat, all of it drawing Bilbo into a trance as he watched Thorin.

Suddenly, a damp cloth was thrown over Bilbo’s head. He sputtered and yanked it off, looking down at the clothes he saw that it was Thorin’s shirt. The one he was just wearing.

“I don’t mind if you stay,” Thorin drawled, fingers nimbly unlacing his trousers. “Might make things interesting…” He raised an eyebrow and licked his lips lewdly. 

Bilbo squawked and threw the shirt back at Thorin, who caught it easily as he laughed. “I can’t believe you,” Bilbo huffed, turning away to march out of the room, but not without getting an eyeful of Thorin’s naked chest. “I will be outside waiting with the others. I can’t--you just-- Unbelievable!”   

Thorin’s hoots of braying laughter followed him out of the room. Bilbo’s whole body felt like it had gone up in flames he was blushing so hard. He was ashamed to admit that he’d enjoyed watching Thorin, his feet had almost taken root to the ground the temptation to stay had been strong. But he was a proper hobbit, and hobbits don’t stand there and gawk at their intended like some lustful harlot. 

Bilbo stormed past Balin, Olo, Fili, and Dwalin without a glance, heading straight for the table of refreshments set up across the tent. He grabbed a pitcher of grog and downed the whole thing promptly, trying to cool his own hormonal body and take a moment to get some sense into him. He’d almost thrown propriety away like a dirty napkin and climbed Thorin like he was an apple tree!

“You okay there Mister Boggins,” Kili patted the hobbit on the back and caused Bilbo to choke. The young dwarf at least seemed apologetic for startling the hobbit, so Bilbo assumed he hadn’t done it on purpose. Bilbo waved his help away, but did take the handkerchief offered. 

“W-what?” Bilbo wiped his mouth. “Yes. I’m fine.”

Dwalin gestured back towards Thorin’s room with his thumb, the dwarf King’s laughter had petered out somewhat. “He up to something?”

Quickly setting down the pitcher, Bilbo pointed at the company surrounding him and noticed Gimli was no longer around. “Don’t go in there!”

Dwalin quirked an eyebrow, most likely curious about what had sent Bilbo running and Thorin laughing.

“Trust me,” Bilbo stated, trying not to blush anymore and knowing he failed dismally. “He’s…busy getting out of his armor.”

“Ahh,” the whole company said in unison, nodding in understanding. Olo sipped at his cup of cider and watched his uncle squirm under the mischievous looks from the others.

Fili, twisting his braided mustache in his fingers, smirked at the hobbit. “You see something that scared you then? Something large and frightening, bald headed with one eye and two hairy sons? Is that why you came running out of there so fast?”  

Bilbo glared, “No. So let’s stop talking about this now, there are little sprouts about with big leaves and I don’t want them repeating things to the gardener.”

Both Fili and Kili started laughing, and Dwalin scratched his head in confusion. Olo looked at Bilbo with such supreme disappointment that the other hobbit took a small step back. 

“Uncle, I’m not a sprout. I’m a grown hobbit and a gentleman in love,” Olo stated, looking put out by Bilbo’s comment.

“You are twelve, Olo. Hardly old enough to be considered an adult.”

Putting his hands on his hips, the young hobbit stomped a foot. “In a few years I’ll be old enough, and then I’ll marry Miss Tauriel!”

“Okay,” Bilbo nodded in acceptance, not wanting to crush a youth’s dream, though he doubted very much that the elf in question would agree with him. “If that is what you say. In a few years you’ll be an adult, until then,” Here Bilbo turned to frown at Fili. “Others will watch the subjects of their talks around you.”

Olo pursed his lips and thought hard for a moment. “Fine. But I don’t understand why I can’t know about a one-eyed man and his hairy sons? Are they bad people? Have they done something naughty to you and that’s why you are scared of them? I bet Miss Tauriel or Mister Legolas will protect you from them if they try to come after you.”

Bilbo glared pointedly at Fili and Kili as the two dwarves tumbled over laughing, rolling on the floor and holding each other in excess mirth. It was how Thorin found them a few moments later when he finally joined them, his nephews squirming about the floor like caterpillars with Bilbo standing over them, his hands on his hips and a glower on his face, while Balin, Olo, and Dwalin looked on in varying states of amusement.  

“Uncle! Uncle!” Kili reached for Thorin’s ankle, tugging at the dwarf’s trousers and trying to wipe the tears of delight from his face at the same time. “Mister Olo has declared the elves will protect Mister Baggin’s virtue from your tunnel snake! Would you think the Elvenking would be up for the job? I think he’d about be the only one able to protect Mister Baggins from you if you wanted the hobbit.”

Olo looked innocently up at Bilbo, “I don’t understand? I thought it was a one-eyed man and sons, not a snake?”

Thorin once amused expression turn cloudy with anger, and despite the small pinkening of his cheeks, he snarled at the two when he kicked the Prince’s hand away. “You two, get up! Act like adults and not like lowly cretins. Our guests will think the line of Durin is full of simpletons and foolhardy children the way you two behave. You dishonor your mother with this conduct and I should think myself a fool for calling you both my heirs.” Thorin turned stiff with fury. A glance towards an awkward Bilbo only seemed to make it worse and he rounded on the two Princes as they tried stumbling to their feet. “I have seen half-witted mules with a better sense of decorum than you two and they’d treat my company better as well. How dare you two talk about such private matters to Bilbo and then suggest such topics in the presence of an innocent child!” 

Fili and Kili were at once on their feet and standing straight, holding their heads high as their uncle sneered at them. “Is this the way you treat my intended when I am not around to monitor you? In front of kith and kin no less! Had either of you any beards I would cut it off for this insult.”  

“We meant nothing by it,” Kili said softly, looking very much like he was close to tears. Out of Thorin’s view, Bilbo saw Fili tug on the younger Prince’s sleeve until Kili hand slipped into his. 

“It was just a joke,” Fili nodded along, trying to hold strong under the ire from his uncle.

“A joke!” Thorin snarled, pacing in front of the two as he lectured them. “You would tell vulgar jokes in front of a child? Had either of you any sense between you, I’d hope you’d think before you open your fowl mouths instead of blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. You make a mockery of our family with your actions and I would expect better from the line of Durin.”

Kili tried to speak but Thorin growled over him, “The next words out of either of you had better be apologies to Bilbo and his nephew.”

Fili nodded and nudged his upset brother with his elbow. Kili glanced up at his brother and sniffled, wiping away the silent tear trickling down his nose. Together both boys turned to Bilbo and slowly bowed.

“Our apologies, please forgive us we had not meant any dishonor towards you or uncle.” Their voices were grave and almost hushed in the tense atmosphere of the tent. Neither of them looked up or met the hobbit’s eye. 

Bilbo, who’d been so shocked by Thorin’s anger, had been biting his nails in worry and stumbled over his reply. “Um, y-yes, apology accepted.”   

The two looked for Olo for a moment before Dwalin explained that Balin had taken him outside for a minute. The older dwarf hadn’t wanted the child to be there while Thorin had been disciplining his nephews and thought it best to find something to distract Olo. With one last shamefaced bow towards Thorin, the two filed outside to apologize to the young hobbit. Thorin looked about ready to follow them before Bilbo found himself grabbing the dwarf’s arm.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said, making the dwarf turn to look at him. “Leave it. They are sorry enough they don’t need you watching them. I think they feel adequately humiliated enough as it is.”

Thorin put a hand against Bilbo’s cheek. “They should not talk about such things to you, or around a child. They’ve been spoiled and selfish for far too long. I’ve given them leniency because of their young age but they are adult now, they should be responsible for their actions.”

“I understand,” Bilbo nodded, fixing Thorin’s fur robe so the gold buttons matched up correctly. “You cannot repetitively yell at them though to get the message across. You must give it time to sink in.”

“Still,” Thorin grumbled, his anger fading the longer Bilbo stood close by. The hobbit was pleased to see that somehow his presence seemed to loosen up the dwarf, and that Thorin looked less likely to chase after his nephews and reprimand them in public. The poor boys, they hadn’t meant anything bad by what they’d said, they’d only been joking. By now Bilbo was rather use to their dreadful manners and was no longer shocked by what came out of their mouths, though he’d think twice about inviting them over with polite company about. He didn’t understand why Thorin had taken their teasing so poorly. 

“I wasn’t as upset about what they said as you think,” Bilbo told him. “I’ve heard worse. My only worry was that my nephew will repeat things that he heard, his father would not be pleased with his son asking about tunnel snakes and furry sons.”

Dwalin coughed and Thorin glared over Bilbo’s shoulder at the other dwarf. 

“Right, I’ll just check on the others. See what’s keeping them,” Dwalin muttered, quickly slipping out the tent’s entrance. Thorin huffed but didn’t say anything, just turned his attention back to Bilbo.

“I know you hobbits are decent folks and such talks in public are considered very impolite,” Thorin said, blue-grey eyes earnest as he looked into Bilbo’s own. “If my own manners have been remiss you must correct me. I do like to tease you in private, but if I have insulted you with my own vulgarity--”

Bilbo put a hand over Thorin’s mouth, stopping the spiel before things could digress. “It’s okay. You haven’t insulted me in any way, I promise. I will handle the situation with Olo’s father if it is brought up, otherwise you should not get so angry about it. But don’t you think you might have overreacted with the Princes?”

Thorin kiss the palm of the hobbit’s hand and frowned. “I might have.”

“Might?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow. He’d never seen the Princes so beat down and Kili had cried! They obviously both held their uncle in high esteem, otherwise his opinion on them wouldn’t have mattered so much. Bilbo’s heart went out to them, though a scolding had been a long time coming, he hadn’t expected it to be that bad. And in company no less! Talk about added embarrassment. 

Thorin looked grumpy, his brows furrowed and his thin lips turned down in a frown. “It’s been stressful, dealing with the elves and Men. And Kili’s comment about Thranduil protecting your virtue from me, like I’m some common beast that will throw myself on you the first chance I get with little thought to your own allowance. I felt insulted and worse, there was a child present. They should both learn to watch their tongues around company.”      

Bilbo sighed, pulling away from Thorin so he could fill a cup of ale for the dwarf. If Thorin really was as stressed as he said, the rest of the day would only make it worse. The games had barely started and the bow and arrow contest would most likely end in triumph for the elves. “Like a dwarf, you are making a mountain out of a mole hill. I very much doubt Kili was insinuating you would--would, well, d-debase yourself on me. He had only been teasing about how I fled when you were undressing.”

Thorin’s ears turned red and he looked uncomfortable, either because of what his actions had caused or because of Bilbo’s word, the hobbit wouldn’t know. He accepted the cup of ale and quickly drunk it down, letting the hobbit use his handkerchief to clean the bits of drink that trickled down his chin. He sighed loudly, shoulders sagging and booted feet shuffling against the dirt floor. Thorin looked a bit contrite about the situation now that his temper wasn’t clouding his head and Bilbo hoped he apologized to Fili and Kili for his reaction. It was senseless for family members to be fighting over silly comments. 

“Thank you,” Thorin sighed, and Bilbo accepted the gratitude even though he didn’t know exactly what it was intended for. It could be for Bilbo’s words, or even just the simple act of getting the dwarf King something to drink? Still, it made Bilbo want to fuss over the dwarf and he shooed Thorin into a seat at the end of the table before he wandered outside to find the others. They’d wasted enough time arguing when they could have been eating and soon the archery contest would start.

Olo clung to Bilbo when he found them, rubbing his face against the other hobbit’s knees and refusing to let go, repeating ‘no’ every time someone tried to pull him off. At Bilbo’s inquiring look, Balin shook his head and shrugged. 

“What’s wrong sweetling?” Bilbo attempted to walk and instead stumbled against Dwalin, the dwarf lent a hand to help Bilbo hobble back inside the tent. Fili and Kili were bringing up the rear, neither one looking at the others or their uncle when they were inside the tent, they just took seats at the opposite end of the table and quietly started to eat. Though Thorin looked a bit regretful by their demeanor, he didn’t say anything to them.

Bilbo was forced to let Olo sit in his lap, since the little hobbit refused to let go of him. He buried his face against Bilbo’s neck and squeaked when he caught a glimpse of Thorin.

“Sweetling,” Bilbo sighed, setting his bowl of fruit aside to draw the hobbit child back. He could barely eat with Olo squirming on his lap like he was. “What ever is the matter with you?”

Olo gave Thorin a terrified look and whispered into Bilbo’s ear. “I don’t want the King to chop off my head.”

Bilbo couldn’t contain his laughter and Thorin, who’d been listening, looked so flabbergasted by what Olo had said he appeared almost offended by the very idea. “Oh dear, Thorin would do no such thing. He’d have to go through me first.”

“Aye, and me,” Dwalin said, slurping at his soup cup. Thorin glowered at them both before he cleared his throat and smoothed out his expression, and then he turned slowly to look at the the young hobbit. He most likely didn’t want to scare Olo more than he already was.

“Mister Olo,” Thorin began, frowning at the trembling his attention caused the young hobbit. “I would never cut off anybody’s head.”

“But you were going to cut Mister Fili and Mister Kili’s off,” Olo mumbled. 

Thorin pursed his lips and glanced down the table at the Princes. “No, I said I would cut off their beards. I had let my anger get the best of me and threaten to discipline them in a manner I should not have. I apologize that you had to see that.”

Fili’s head jerked quickly up at Thorin’s words and something like wonder flashed across his face before it disappeared into a disinterested expression. Kili’s head was still bowed and he refused to look up from his plate of food, even at his brothers and Balin’s urging. 

“So you were just angry? Like how uncle gets when I pull up his onions before they’ve completely grown and he threatens to throw me into the river?” Olo asked, settling more into Bilbo’s lap now that he knew Thorin wasn’t a threat. 

“Not me! His other uncle,” Bilbo sputtered at the looks the others gave him. Dwalin looked ready to go for his axes before Balin set a calm hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Thorin nodded gravely, keeping his eyes focused on the young hobbit’s. “Yes, exactly. I have said worse things for lesser reasons, but my nephews mean much to me and sometimes they worry me into a great rage. I only sought to reprimand them for their actions and though the manner was extreme, I meant them no threat.”

“Oh,” Olo intoned quietly, sliding off Bilbo’s lap and into an empty seat. By now, both Fili and Kili were listening to their uncle, their expression neutral as they watched Thorin help the young hobbit into his seat between him and Bilbo. Thorin being extra gentle in his handling, and Olo even allowed the dwarf to help tuck his napkin into his collar. 

Thorin glanced towards his nephews. “I am usually very proud of my sister’s son, though they could do with watching their manners.”   

“Aye,” Balin nodded, “And so should the King.”

The dwarf King frowned but didn’t dispute Balin’s claim and it made both Princes smile a bit at the light mocking.  Bilbo and Olo both giggled, glancing swiftly away when Thorin look at them. With the tense atmosphere gone the meal tasted a lot better and Bilbo gorged himself on meats and vegetables, even helping Olo consume a large pudding pie between them. It wasn’t until both hobbits were finished that they saw they had an audience.

“What?” Bilbo asked, licking the last bit of chocolate from his spoon.

Thorin’s eyes were a bit glazed, so Bilbo turned towards the others. Dwalin was examining Olo’s empty plate and then he checked under the table. “Where are you two putting it all away?”

“We are hobbits! That’s how we eat!” Olo squealed, giggling when the dwarf tickled his feet. Being so young, the hobbit hadn’t yet developed the thick calluses on the bottom of his feet yet that would numb them to most irritations and he still had a bit of sensitivity down there. Soon enough they’d be tough as leather and any tickling would be ineffective.  

“Aye, and maybe part warg!” Dwalin smirked, “I thought you a babe, but you put food away like a beast.”

Knowing the dwarf was only teasing, Bilbo let Olo enlighten in great detail to the guard about the eating habits of hobbits, and in particular his family. It seemed the Proudfoot clan was renowned for their ability to eat a full three watermelons apiece in the summer. This information actually drew the Princes into the conversation and they wanted to know more about what exactly a ‘water-melon’ was and why eating three was a big achievement, and this got Thorin into the conversation because he hadn’t know his nephews had never tried the fruit before. Before long, everybody was getting along again talking about foods they’ve never tried, with Thorin promising to find a merchant to ship some from the southern ports since melons were out of season in Erebor.

Olo tugged on Thorin’s sleeve and the dwarf froze, looking down at the young hobbit with a particularly strange look on his face. Balin gave Bilbo a wink and nodded his head in their direction.

“Mister King sir, can I have some melons too?”

Thorin’s expression went wide eyed, looking from Bilbo to Olo and back again. “Wh-why of course you may. Any kin of Bilbo’s is welcome to my favors.”

Bilbo groaned and put his head into his hands. Thorin didn’t know what he was inviting himself into saying that. Did he not know how large Bilbo’s extended family was? Goodness, Bilbo would have to monitor what Thorin said around the others at the wedding tomorrow or he’d be promising special treatment to every member of Bilbo’s family. Just Lobelia alone would be a problem once she found out, she’d be stopping by asking favors every chance she got if only to flaunt to Lily Brown her relations to a dwarf King. And Bilbo doubted there wouldn’t be a wedding or birthday roster without their names when things were discovered, the hobbits knowing Thorin could afford the good wines and eager to see if he would supply it. 

Olo looked very pleased with himself and his ears wiggled in happiness. “That’s good. I’m going to have Miss Tauriel over for lunch one day and I want to show her how much I can eat. She’s going to be so impressed.”  

Thorin raised an eyebrow at Bilbo. “Oh, is the girth of your stomachs something to be admired? I must admit I am unaware what hobbits would find attractive and would like to know for… certain reasons.”

Nodding, Olo patted his own food filled stomach. “Yup! Papa says it was because he ate all of Mama’s cooking that she married him. I’m going to cook for Miss Tauriel and she’ll fall in love with me just like Papa did Mama.”

Bilbo leaned towards Balin and explained, “The now Mrs. Proudfoot was known for her ability to burn everything including water. She’s much improved since then, but for a while he thought Odo wouldn’t have survived long enough to even make it past the honeymoon. Stomach of steel that one.”

Still in conversation, Thorin and Olo’s attention were only on each other. “This is good news to hear,” Thorin said, leaning forward to conspire with the young hobbit. “You see, I am trying to woo a hobbit into marriage and I must know how to go about it properly. Do you have any advice for me?”

Groaning, Bilbo buried his face into his arms. Fili and Kili were actually smiling now, though they didn’t say anything, they looked amused by the situation. 

“You are!” Olo yelled, and then quickly covered his mouth. “You are?” he repeated, more in a whisper this time. 

Thorin nodded, looking very serious indeed. Beside the King, Dwalin rolled his eyes and gave Bilbo a look that asked why the hobbit put up with this silliness. But it was rather sweet, seeing Thorin interact with the little hobbit in such a way. Olo didn’t seem to care much about decorum around Kings and there was an innocence to the intermingling between the hobbit child and the dwarf King. Thorin’s behavior though, was what really sent Bilbo’s heart fluttering, seeing the gentleness and thoughtfulness he put into his exchanges with Olo. It wasn’t something Bilbo would have expected from the dwarf, though he shouldn’t have been so surprised by it. Thorin did have two young nephews, so he must have had experience with children.   

“Well,” Olo stuck his tongue out as he thought about Thorin’s question. “If you want to marry a hobbit, you got to make them a flower crown. Us hobbits like flowers and since you’re a King, it can be a crown. Then you got to make them supper. We like food. Oh! And you have to dance. People getting married always dance. They kiss too, but I think that’s gross so don’t do that.”

“You are a very wise hobbit,” Thorin said, eyes twinkling when he glanced towards Bilbo. 

“I know,” Olo stated, popping the last strawberry tart into his mouth. “Mister King sir, are you going to marry my uncle?”

“Depends on which uncle,” Thorin laughed at Bilbo’s flailing. “I do not want to woo the one who threatens to throw you into the river for pulling onions. I fear my own gardening skills would quickly get me into trouble with that one.”

“No silly, my uncle Bilbo!” Olo giggled, accidently spitting a half-eaten strawberry into his lap, which Thorin quickly picked up without thought and threw over his shoulder. 

“None of that now,” Bilbo tried to admonish, but Thorin was already nodding his acquiesce. The dwarf King reached over the young hobbit’s head and caught Bilbo’s hands into his. 

“He’s been most tricky to court,” Thorin smirked, placing a quick kiss on the back of the hobbit’s hand. “Your uncle Bilbo does not let himself be wooed by pretty baubles and I have had a difficult time finding things to please him.”

“Ha!” Bilbo laughed in disbelief. “Everything you’ve gotten so far has been perfect! I do not see why you are making a fuss about it. Olo, do not believe this dwarf, he’s the one who showered my porch with flowers a few weeks back.”

“Oi,” Dwalin grumbled. “I put a lot of work into getting those flowers. Took all day and all I had to show for it was a lump on the head.”   

“I remember that!” Olo jumped in his seat, looking excited. “That was fun, Saradoc Brandybuck had us all climbing trees and throwing stones. He said the dwarves were raiding the Shire and we had to protect everyone!”

Bilbo and Dwalin gave Thorin a pointed look.

“Yes, well, I was just trying to apologize to Bilbo at the time,” Thorin explained, looking unrepentant. “Not my fault you all went to extremes for me. Glóin’s the one who suggested the more flowers the quicker the forgiveness.”

Dwalin huffed and rolled his eyes. “You should not be listening to a fool who built a whole cellar dedicated to his wife’s favorite jams. Ovrimi now has two thousands bottles of peach jam and not near enough bread to eat them with, and her mother thinks Glóin dimwitted for wasting the space on provisions when she wanted a room in their apartment to stay with them.”   

Bilbo laughed heartily, knowing how much Glóin disliked his mother-in-law, he somehow wasn’t surprised by the dwarf’s craftiness to avoid having her move in with them. Two thousands jars of jam indeed. Bilbo would bet his brass buttons they stayed at a constant number too, never once running low on stores and not one empty shelf in the whole room.

Olo leaned against Bilbo’s side, looking a bit sleepy-eyed now that he was full. He was probably missing his nap time, staying out with his uncle all day. Balin told Thorin it was about time to leave anyhow, they had to travel to the archer rang which was a bit farther than the stadium and closer to the elves camp. Olo perked up at bit at the mention of elves and started asking about Tauriel and Legolas.

“When the elves come visit the Shire, do you think--” Olo started to say but was quickly cut off as Thorin whirled around to stare at them.

“Elves! Visit the Shire?” Thorin growled, looking particularly betrayed at Bilbo. “When was this planned and why did you not say anything to me about it?”

Bilbo crossed his arms and sighed, “I wasn’t aware I had to run everything us hobbit do by you first? We’re just hosting a party for the elves, his Majesty said he’s never been to a hobbit party and we felt bad about just inviting Tauriel, so there’s nothing wrong with having a few of them over for festivities.”

Thorin sputtered, “ _You_ invited _Thranduil_ to the Shire for a party, because you _felt bad_ for him. Need I remind you who he is!” 

Even Fili and Kili were looking puzzled by the hobbits now, their expressions going from confused to cross as they started to mutter in Khuzdul between each other and gestured towards Bilbo. In fact Balin looked like the only one not upset by the news, sighing to himself by the door of the tent as the others all rounded on the hobbits for an explanation.   

“Of course I know who he is!” Bilbo said in outrage. “Why are you so upset by this?”

“He is Thranduil and you felt it suitable to invite him and his people to the Shire like they are just visitors from….from over the hill!”

Something in Bilbo jerked in shock at this. Was Thorin really suggesting that the hobbits were not worthy of hosting a party for the elves? The very idea! He hadn’t known Thorin was such a snob, and yet he wanting to marry one of the hobbits as Consort. It was good this was all coming up now and not later. To think, he’d wanted to subject his people to this kind of scorn from Thorin.

“I can’t believe,” Bilbo seethed, trying not to work up a temper in front of the others and Olo. Maybe he was just misunderstanding what had Thorin upset? He breathed a couple of time to cool his irritation and think rationally about this. “Thorin, you are being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable!” The dwarf yelled and threw his hands in the air. Like Bilbo was the one being difficult.

Bilbo huffed, quickly getting to his feet and pulling Olo into his arms. He’d leave before he let Thorin scold him in front his nephew. “Yes. You wanted to join me with the hobbits tomorrow for Lobelia’s wedding, so I don’t see why you are so upset with King Thranduil celebrating with us later this week. We are perfectly fine hosts and we know how to show proper etiquette around royalty.”

Thorin choked for a moment, jaw dropping at he stared at Bilbo with a stunned expression. “H-how can you, I d-don’t! Bilbo, you are being _unreasonable_!”

“Me!” Bilbo tucked Olo against his chest, holding one hand over the little hobbit’s ears. “Thorin, you are making a fool of yourself in front of guests. Stop it right this instant.”

“Mister Baggins,” Fili began but stopped once he noticed the dark glower the hobbit was giving them all. Thorin put a hand on his nephews shoulder and they shared a look. 

“Stay out of this,” Bilbo hissed at the Prince. “Your uncle is being a dunderhead and I doubt even he can explain why he’s being so _unreasonable_ about the elves visiting the Shire. Huh, Thorin? Do you not think us hobbits worthy of hosting the elves? Is that it?”

“I never said that!” Thorin wheeled back like Bilbo had struck him, his voice lowering as he watch Olo cling to Bilbo. “I do not think the hobbits unworthy, that’s not what I’m upset about. If anything, the elves are not worthy of _you_! I just don’t like the idea Thranduil and his people being around the hobbits. He’ll turn you against me and steal you for himself!”

Bilbo laughed, a high pitched, unwelcoming sound. He didn’t understand why Thorin was acting this way and saying these things. It was almost insulting to even suggest that Bilbo would be swayed so easily and quickly, and the idea that the Elvenking would even want him! Like Thranduil was such a horrible person to filch Bilbo from Thorin just for sport. “I’m positive the Elvenking is already married and if you think me so faithless as to just leave you on a whim, then you shouldn’t bother showing up tomorrow.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin begged, rushing forward to stop the hobbit from marching outside. The horn blew for the seating to begin and even though Bilbo would rather Thorin run off to host the competition and leave him be, the dwarf refused to let Bilbo pass. “Please, Bilbo. I didn’t mean it like that. Stop, please, I don’t want you angry with me.”

“Why? Because me being angry will only make it easier for Thranduil to make off with my heart? You are a half-witted dwarf Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo sniffed, running a hand down Olo’s back and jerking away when Thorin tried to circle his arms around them both. “You are-- you are a soft-footed, food hoarding, big-nosed jerk!”

Olo, face pressed into Bilbo’s shoulder, gasped in alarm. The little one had probably never heard a hobbit spill such filth from his mouth, but Bilbo was just so angry. He’d explain to Olo on the way home about not repeating such language around the others.

“Bilbo,” Thorin had to nerve to smile a bit at the hobbit’s ire. “I am what you say I am. I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“Being a jealous blockhead?” Dwalin supplied, awkwardly standing back at his King pleaded with the hobbit. 

“Yes, I suppose so…I’ve been known to be--” Thorin tried to continue, but Kili piped up.

“A green-eyed nincompoop?”

“I presume so…” Thorin frowned, but didn’t deny the insult. “Bilbo, I know I can sometimes be--”

Fili shook his head, “An intolerant, pinheaded dullard?”

“Okay enough!” Thorin roared at them, not looking as irate as he would have if he didn’t deserve those name-callings. The others just shrugged, looking quite bored with the whole situation, but smirked at each other when Thorin’s back was turned towards them.

“Yes, I am all these things, now enough about my shortcomings!” Thorin yelled, throwing his arms in the air. “I’m sorry, that’s what I’m trying to say! I am just worried about you, that’s it. I don’t like that pretentious, overbearing, haughty, grass-eating elf King anymore than any other dwarf. I’m suspicious that he wants to spend time with you and I think he’s up to something.”

Bilbo blinked, mouth falling open in surprise. For Thorin to be so honest, it was astonishing, and about his own failings too. Olo muffled a giggle with his fist, snickering and mouthing ‘grass-eater’ to himself. Balin sighs from the door drew the hobbit’s attention for a moment before he was back to watching Thorin. Bilbo would feel bad about holding them up if it wasn’t for his dwarf being so difficult.

“I--I think your wrong,” Bilbo said, holding his head up. Thranduil in no way seemed like such a horrible character as Thorin believed him to be. Whatever their past and qualms with each other, it was none of Bilbo’s business. He could make friendships where he liked and it would be good business for the hobbits to host the elven party in the Shire. There might be a chance to make trade agreements with Mirkwood.

Thorin didn’t seem surprised by his dissent. “Then we shall agree to disagree.”  

“Fine,” Bilbo nodded.

“Good,” Thorin established. 

“Can we go now?” Fili whined, the two quarrelling ignored him.

Thorin drew closer to the hobbits and Bilbo let the King slip an arm around his back. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Apology accepted,” Bilbo huffed, jostling Olo higher on his hip. The little hobbit peeked at Thorin, not so much scared of the dwarf than he was anxious about the spat. Which was a relief, Bilbo wouldn’t have known what he’d do if Olo was terrified of Thorin again. As much as he usually enjoyed the dwarf King’s company, he wouldn’t subject Olo to him if he didn’t want to be around him.    

“I still don’t like the idea Thranduil being unsupervised in the Shire,” Thorin muttered after a moment. He actually seemed taken aback that the others groaned at the comment and Bilbo frowned at him. “What?”

“Uncle, please,” Kili whined. “I’m supposed to be in the archery contest. We’ll be here forever if we wait for you to hash out things with Mister Baggins again.”    

“Fine, we’ll talk about this later.”

Sticking his nose in the air, Bilbo marched right past the others and out the tent behind Balin. “No we won’t.” 

“Halfling, you will stop being so quarrelsome!” Thorin had to quicken his steps to keep up. 

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin, no! Stop it, you keep putting your foot in your mouth.  
> I believe hobbit ages are supposed to be seen as double ours. So if Olo is stated as 12 to hobbits, he’s actually considered 6-7 to us. Or at least that’s what I’ve been led to consider.   
> You know, some part of me isn’t surprised this is now over 100k. Seriously, this chapter was supposed to be a short lunch and then archery! Except somehow it became Thorin yelling at Fili and Kili, and then Thorin interacting with Olo, and eventually jealous Thorin, and they haven’t even left the tent yet. How does this happen?


	20. Arrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archery contest and things get awkward with Fili and his father. Bilbo gets a glance at the inner workings of the dwarves royal family and wonders at the mess he’s getting himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reposting the revised addition of chapter 20, Caristia has been lovely enough to offer her help in beta-ing my fic. We'll be going back and working on earlier chapters as we go, but mostly we'll focus on the current ones. I'm just really happy for the help, there's been some complaints about grammar mistakes and such taking away from the experience of reading the fic, so I'm hoping a beta will help. Caristia you are a wonderful person! Thank you!! XD

****

Trying to ignore the stares was easier said than done. Bilbo didn’t know if it was because they were walking with Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, and therefore garnered the type of attention they were currently getting or because of the fact that there were two unlikely hobbits traveling with the King’s entourage and as a result drawing the sort of notice Bilbo wasn’t used to. He felt silly for not thinking of this sooner, but the interest others were giving him wouldn’t have been so surprising if he’d only thought about it for a moment. He’d forgotten that the majority of mountain’s inhabitants had been informed of their King’s pending engagement and consequently were most likely all wondering if Bilbo was the hobbit Thorin was courting. 

They wouldn’t be wrong on that account, Bilbo thought sourly. If Thorin had kept his huge mouth shut to begin with his life might have played out differently. He would still have his job for one and, best of all, he could have enjoyed the relative anonymity he’d had before meeting Thorin for a bit longer. Suddenly, he missed being pushed around in the crowds and almost stepped on, if only so he didn’t have to put up with so much whispering and pointing being done in his direction.

Thankfully, most of the questioning stares and side looks Bilbo was receiving were only from the dwarves. The Men and elves mostly watched Thorin and barely paid the hobbits in their midst half a mind, which lessened the pressure somewhat. Their eyes were drawn to the proud King, his silver and gold crown placed perfectly snug on his head.   

Bilbo watched Thorin’s back, admiring how the dwarf held himself and seemed to have a presence of someone ten times his size, no thought at all to his right to be respected and obeyed by even the elves or humans around him. And someday Bilbo would be expected to walk beside the King as Consort, and gain the attention he would rightfully deserve as his station demanded. It was a harrowing thought.

“Ouch!” Olo squeaked, pushing at Bilbo’s arm. The older hobbit blinked, suddenly becoming aware that he’d been squeezing the young hobbit too tightly. Carefully, Bilbo let Olo slip to his feet so he could walk on his own beside them.

“Sorry, sweetling,” Bilbo whispered. Dwalin appeared beside him and handed over a cookie he’d pilfered from a sweets vender. Bilbo would have scolded the dwarf guard if he hadn’t just then noticed the merchants offering their wares and goods for free to the King’s party, one even being so bold as to jump in front of Fili and present a thick gold necklace that the Prince politely declined. With Thorin leading them, Bilbo and Olo had been forced into the middle of the group and he hadn’t had to deal with the insistent tradesmen and merchants throwing themselves at the King’s entourage. It was quite startling to see how others reacted around Thorin in such a setting.

Balin patted Bilbo on the shoulder. “I know it’s a bit different from what you’re used to, but it’s not always this bad either.”               

“Thank goodness”, Bilbo sighed. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to put up with this on a daily basis. It was now rather understandable why Thorin often escaped to the Shire when he could, if the gawking and pestering from his own people was nearly this bad. 

“I don’t know how he does it”, Bilbo whispered to the older dwarf as they watched Thorin. In his fur-lined robes, thick blue wool clothes, and silver garnishes, he looked everything like a King should. The way he walked, the way he held himself – it brought to mind all the stories he’d read about great Kings of the past and their regal persona. It still startled him to know that the dwarf King was actually Thorin, silly dwarf who liked apple pie and disliked Master Pumpernickel. 

“You have to understand, the lads have grown up under this sort of scrutiny,” Balin said, gesturing back towards Fili and Kili. “It’s odd to them when they don’t get the type of attention they’re used to. It’s why your treatment of Thorin was so unique, you not knowing who he is and all. It’s the reverse of your situation, going from ambiguity to distinction. It might be uncomfortable for you, but they are quite used to it.” 

“Ah,” Bilbo nodded along. It made sense in a way. The Princes and Thorin had always grown up in the limelight their titles granted them from birth, always being watched by the people around them, their daily routine constantly known and scrutinized. There was probably very little about their lives that was private and only for themselves. 

“Still, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with it.”

Balin gave him a small, secretive smile. “I’m sure you’ll handle it well. You seem to be the type with a great deal of hidden strength, I think you’ll end up surprising yourself.”

Flattered, Bilbo returned the smile. “Thank you.”

Kili pushed past them when a call came out for the archers to line up, rushing to Thorin’s side and asking for his final consent to join the competition. The King grabbed his nephew before he could run past, stilling the younger dwarf with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Know that no matter what, you make me proud, but…”, here Thorin gave his nephew a smirk, “if you triumph over that girlish elf Prince in the contest today, I will let you carry out that thing you’ve been asking to do.”

Kili’s eyes went wide and he looked almost giddy at the promise, “Truly?”

Thorin nodded, “Yes.”

Sharing an excited look with his brother, Kili leaned forward and knocked his forehead lightly against his uncle’s, conscious of the crown on Thorin’s head, “My King.”

They muttered something private in Khuzdul between them and then quickly Kili was hurrying ahead of them. Thorin and Fili looking quite proud of the younger Prince, watching Kili sprint towards the referee and announce his contending. Dwalin had to nudge them forward before they would start walking again and their conversation tending to wander towards Kili’s growing skill with the bow.

They all stepped into the stands about the time the second horn blew, Thorin heading straight to the replica throne set for him and flopping back into it with little decorum. Bilbo glanced down the stands and saw that Thranduil and the Master of Laketown were already sitting in their chairs and enjoying a cup of wine. King Bard of Dale was oddly absent. Balin reassured him that the Kings were not obligated to be at every tournament, but it was seen as favorable to their people if they were. 

Looking at the area cleared away for Thorin and his family, Bilbo saw a few empty seats left for them and wondered if he was allowed to sit with them or not. He didn’t want to assume he could just because Thorin and he were courting. The others might take it to mean something it didn’t and being around royalty always lent a certain expectation to it that made things even more complicated. Had Thorin been just any normal dwarf it wouldn’t have been so difficult a decision just to sit next to him, but surely that wasn’t allowed?

Dis, who was already there sitting next to the throne on a large velvet cushion, jumped to her feet when she caught sight of Bilbo looking for a spot to rest. “Come, Mister Baggins, beside me,” she yelled, waving them over. Bilbo hesitated, wondering if it would be proper. The dwarves, already positioned around the throne very well dressed and pampered looking, were watching their King take his seat with appreciative eyes. The few that watched Bilbo seemed mostly curious, but one or two looked displeased to see him.

Thorin watched his sister curiously but didn’t say anything and, with Balin’s gentle urging, Bilbo shuffled across the platform and took the offered seat between the Princess and Thorin’s throne. There was someone he supposed might be her husband sitting on Dis’ other side and he gave the dwarf a friendly smile. Olo, of course, didn’t even spare a thought to the dwarves gaping at them and instead hopped into Bilbo’s lap without consideration, too busy watching the field for Tauriel’s graceful form. 

“Mister Baggins let me introduce you to my husband, Heptifili,” Dis said, smiling widely as the other dwarf inclined his head in greeting.

“Hept, if you please. At your service, Mister Baggins.” The dwarf looked a lot like Kili with his eyes and nose and general friendliness, but his coloring was all Fili. With a thick, loose blond mustache and rather short grey-speckled beard he was different from most dwarves Bilbo had encountered in that he didn’t seem to take such care of his appearance. His hair was blond and unkempt looking, with only one small braid beside his right ear, his eyes were a warm brown and he wagged his shaggy eyebrows suggestively at Bilbo. “My wife was not false when she said you were a looker. If I was a few years younger and not married I might have a go – ”

“Heptifili!” Thorin growled, glaring at his brother-in-law. 

“What?” The other dwarf shrugged, sharing a sly look with his wife. It became suddenly clear how alike Dis and her husband were, and watching Fili groan into his hands he imagined it was somewhat interesting living with them on a daily basis. It was a wonder Fili and Kili were not worse. 

Smothering a laugh, Bilbo tried returning the greeting, unsure if he should bow or not to someone only married to royalty. “Bilbo, please, and this is my nephew Olo Proudfoot. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Nice manners, this one,” Dis loudly whispered to her husband, “Thorin doesn’t deserve him, but he’s King, so who’s going to deny him. I got a feel of his…” Dis made a motion that sent Bilbo’s face up in flames and Thorin’s jaw dropping. “Very nice. Soft and round, a good handful. If my idiotic brother hadn’t gotten to him first… well, I’m sure you know what we could do with him, but alas we shall have to pine for the hobbit from afar.”

Hept leaned back and took a peek over his wife’s shoulder at Bilbo’s rump. “Not very much ‘afar’ if he’s only a bedroom away, dear. Maybe your brother’s willing to share?” Bilbo squirmed under the attention, unsure if they were being serious or not. He figured them only teasing but there was a glint of want in both their eyes when they looked the hobbit over, and he gulped loudly.  

And he’d been worried about Fili and Kili’s topic of conversation around Olo. The only thing keeping Bilbo from storming off was the fact that the little hobbit wasn’t paying an ounce of attention to their conversation, too busy cooing to himself over Tauriel’s imminent victory.

“Dis,” Thorin growled, reaching over the hobbit’s head and yanking on his sister’s braid, “remember your manners around children. Also, tell your worthless cad of a husband to leave my intended alone or I’ll have his beard cut and fed to the pigs. And if I find out your hands have been anywhere on Bilbo again, you will lose them.”

“Aww,” Dis pouted. Hept put a reassuring arm around her shoulder and they shared a quick kiss.

“They aren’t married yet, my star,” Hept said cheerfully. “There’s still time for Thorin to put his foot in his mouth and Mister Baggins to see what a catch we are in comparison. He’ll come around eventually.”

“I certainly will not!” Bilbo yelped, checking to make sure Olo wasn’t listening before turning to Thorin. “I won’t, I promise you.”

Thorin looked down from his slightly elevated seat at Bilbo with a small grin, letting his fingers brush against the hobbit’s ears under the excuse of pulling a stray leaf from Bilbo’s blond curls. “I know. I trust you more than I do them though, and I think it’s about time I moved the royal wing to the other end of the hall.”

Bilbo blushed, thinking about what that might have meant and what was implied. That he’d be sharing a room with Thorin in the future and the things they would get up to alone, after marriage. Though the others teased him, for all intent and purposes, he only wanted to awake each morning in Thorin’s bed beside the dwarf he loved.    

Most likely tired of his parent’s joking, Fili moved from his place on Thorin’s right besides Balin and plopped himself between his mother and Bilbo. He gave his father a glare that sent Hept into gales of laughter and his mother giggling about how serious the Prince was. Thorin though, gave his nephew a grateful smile.

“Sorry about them,” Thorin said softly. “If they make you uncomfortable I can understand if you’d like to sit elsewhere. Bofur and Bombur are a few seats over if you’d like to be near them instead?”

Searching through the crowd Bilbo finally spotted the dwarves. Bombur and Bofur were both leaning against the fence, hooting loudly and yelling in Khuzdul as the archers were introduced one by one. Gimli and Glóin were near them, the younger dwarf jeering whenever an elf stepped forward to bow to the Kings. When Legolas stepped forward and bowed, the elf winked at Gimli and the young dwarf stumbled back into his seat. Sitting quiet the rest of the introductions to his father’s confusion. 

“I’ll stay here if you don’t mind”, Bilbo said back, clapping along with the others when Kili was announced. Dis and Hept cheered loudly, the male dwarf stomping his feet and whistling while his wife was somewhat demure about her enthusiasm in comparison. The Prince blushed under the applause and gave them a small wave.

It wasn’t until Tauriel was introduced that Olo made a sound. His high pitched screaming sent Thorin jerking back and frowning as the little hobbit went wild. They all seemed to have underestimated Olo’s dedication and enthusiasm towards the elf woman and even Tauriel looked back towards the noise they were making and cringed. 

“Spirited one,” Fili muttered, turning back to watch the archers turn towards the row of targets set in the distance. A referee was explaining the rules and handing out the arrows. Everyone in the stands started to quiet down, watching the archers test the pull of their bow-string and line up their sight. Knowing the elves had such good eyesight Bilbo wouldn’t be surprised if one of them won this round of competition. Then again, Bilbo had never seen Kili’s skill with the bow, he might be really good. 

“Oh! Oh!” Olo trembled where he stood, looking so animated when he’d been tired moments ago. “I hope Miss Tauriel wins!”

Fili snuck his hands around the little hobbits middle and gave him a fierce tickling. “What! You’re not wishing for Kili to win! Treason! I call treason, uncle Thorin! The hobbits are rebelling!”

Olo squealed in laughter, wiggling quickly out of the Prince’s arms and over to Dwalin. “No, help! Save me, Mister Dwalin.” 

Sighing at the loud yelling, the guard swept Olo over his shoulder and out of Fili’s reach. The little hobbit was giggling madly, trying to crane his neck to see past the dwarf’s bulk and towards the field. The archers were getting ready for the first shot.

“I can’t see!”

The dwarf sitting behind Dwalin sneered at Olo, causing the little one to quickly hush and halt his squirming. Dwalin, still looking towards the fields, never noticed. Everyone was focused on the games.

Bilbo blanched when he saw the dwarf’s familiar face, knowing he was one of Thorin’s advisors and the one who’d look so unhappy to see him the other day. Worried by the dwarf’s attitude, Bilbo didn’t want the young hobbit anywhere near the dwarf. Unsure if the advisor had something against hobbits in general or just Bilbo, he couldn’t let Olo’s happiness from the day be tainted by someone else’s scorn for them. He reached for Olo, gesturing for Dwalin to hand the little hobbit over and away from the unfriendly dwarf. With a bemused expression the guard passed Olo over, until Thorin plucked the young hobbit right out of the air and refused to let him go.

Thorin set Olo beside him on the throne, the little hobbit not big enough to take up much room and fitting snuggly between the King and the armrest. Olo blinked in confusion for a moment, taken aback by the new height and clear view.  Thorin made sure the hobbit was comfortable, pushing cushions around and setting his arm around the young one’s body, letting Olo lean against his side until everything was perfect. Smirking at the other like he’d made some successful accomplishment, Thorin made sure he addressed Olo when he asked: “He can see perfectly from here. Can’t you, Mister Olo?”

“Y-yes,” Olo whispered, still looking at bit anxious and bewildered. Bilbo was distressed to see that even when the archers shot the first arrows the little hobbit did not perk up and instead Olo would glance ominously behind them at the unpleasant dwarf, before ducking his head under Thorin’s arm. Because most of the others were watching Kili, they didn’t pick up on either of the hobbits sudden disquiet attitude.

“Look at that!” Hept laughed. “Our son’s good for something besides looking pretty and getting into trouble. He’s made it to the next round.” 

“He _is_ a skilled warrior, father. We’ve been training for over five years,” Fili said, sending the other dwarf a glare. Bilbo was surprised by the sudden hostility towards his father that the Prince displayed. There seemed to be a lot of tension between them in regards to Kili. It successfully distracted Bilbo from the unpleasant dwarf and with Olo tucked safely in the throne next to Thorin, Bilbo let himself be sidetracked into watching and listening to his friends instead of bothering with the rude dwarf. There wasn’t much he could do about someone scowling at them and scaring Olo and it would be improper to make a scene in public anyhow. 

Dis, finally noticing her son’s mood, put a hand in her son’s hair and ran her fingers through the thick blond waves. “He knows, your father is just teasing.”

Grumbling, Fili leaned forward and focused on his brother instead, watching as some of the archers were escorted off the field for failing to hit the target completely. A few had made the center ring, Legolas, Kili, and Tauriel being part of them. But it would get harder as the rounds progressed, Balin explaining that the targets would get moved farther back the longer it went on, and if it came to a tie, the contestants would have to shoot from horseback.

“Olo,” Bilbo whispered, trying to draw the little hobbits attention away from the obnoxious dwarf behind them, “looks like Tauriel got a bulls-eye. Not many of the others did that.”

Thorin quirked an eyebrow at them but pretended not to hear, ignoring how Olo was half leaning over the armrest to scheme with his uncle. The little one’s unease soothed somewhat by the closeness of a family member and the mention of the female elf. 

“I can’t see that far,” Olo whispered back. “But she did good? Did she win?”

Shaking his head, Bilbo fixed Olo’s shirt collar. It had gotten disheveled in his flight from Fili and Thorin’s fussing. “Not yet, sweetling. She has to be the last one up there for her to win.”

“Oh, okay.” Olo sat back, twisting Thorin’s robe in his tiny fist when the archers took aim for a second time. He held his breath when the arrows were readied, letting out a loud exhale when the strings were released and the arrows sent speeding towards the target. There was a distant thumb of wood striking wood, and the referee hurried towards the painted circles to see who’d struck the goal.  

Kili, Tauriel, and Legolas of course progressed to the next round, and the ones after that. The farther back the targets went, the worse Kili was getting though. Where Tauriel and Legolas made the center circle almost every time, the dwarf Prince was slowly shifting further away from the middle, sometime hitting the second or third ring instead. It didn’t look good for the dwarf to win, seeing that the only other contestants were elves and one human. 

It was the second to the last round before they would have to ride horses that both Kili and Legolas missed. Kili’s bow wasn’t able to let the dwarf shoot far enough and his arrow missed by just inches before it flew over the target completely and struck a tree instead. Legolas’ arrow skimmed the side of the target and shot past the mark also, skidding the ground and disappearing into some brush. Both Princes groaned in unison at the defeat, but marched off the field so Tauriel and the hooded human could finish the next round. 

Thorin didn’t look too upset at the defeat, maybe because Legolas hadn’t technically beaten his nephew. He shifted a bit in his seat, but that might have been because Olo was squirming in anticipation and tugging harshly at his robe. The little hobbit seemed really keen for Tauriel to win.

Bilbo nudged Fili in the shoulder, sharing with the dismayed dwarf Prince a hopeful smile. “He did well. Not many could have beaten that many elves before losing.”

“Yeah?” Fili looked up, his disappointed expression easing somewhat. 

“Of course,” Bilbo reassured him. “Elves are known for their expertise in archery. The fact that so many lost to Master Kili is rather remarkable. He’s very skilled.”

“He’s been training real hard”, Fili said, glancing towards his father. “It’s not really a weapon certain dwarves endorse.”

“Why not?” Bilbo asked curiously. He figured dwarves approved of any type of weapon as long as they could master it and defeat someone with it. Bilbo had seen archers in the mountain kingdom before, though there wasn’t that many and they stuck mostly to the rampart. 

Fili shrugged, “I’m not sure, but it’s seen as an elfish sport. Dwarves aren’t usually good with long range weapons and our eyesight isn’t suited for hitting targets at a distance.”

“So Kili is _really good_ then”, Bilbo said with surprising excitement. His parents and Thorin had to be very proud of the younger Prince for mastering a skill so few were good at. Even Bilbo, with his good hobbit eyesight, would be hard pressed to hit something that far away like Kili had.

“He didn’t win though”, Hept sighed, rolling his shoulders back like he was tired of sitting. Dis pinched her husband’s thigh and the other dwarf looked taken aback by the actions. They shared a quiet conversation in Khuzdul as Fili watched them.           

The last shot wasn’t done from horseback, but only because Tauriel undershot her turn and hit the same tree Kili had. The human still got his turn and he hit the center target perfectly. A great cheer went up all down the stands, dwarves and humans alike jumping to their feet in appreciation. Tauriel shook hands with the winner and walked off the field, leaving the champion to thank the crowd and do his rounds. 

After a moment of waving to the audience, the Man swept his hood off and Bilbo was startled to see the human was King Bard.

Bard gave a flourishing bow towards the dwarves, his usually dower looking face appearing cheeky in response to all the excited yelling. “Thank you, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thror, King under the Mountain. You inspired me to try my own hand in the games and I am only happy I was able to defeat such talented players.”

Thorin hardly could hold the laugh in, inclining his head in acquiesce as he applauded with the others at Bard’s victory. Dale’s people and Laketown’s were going wild with excitement at Bard’s success, women throwing handkerchiefs and men stomping their feet. It seemed the Men hadn’t expected the victory over the elves in the archery contest either and were very much thrilled by the surprise win. The elves didn’t look too happy with the deception, but Thranduil raised a toast of wine in congratulations and things settled down.

Thorin smirked toward the Elvenking, “As long as an elf doesn’t win, I think it’s a success for all of us.”

“Thorin!” Bilbo scolded, but it was Olo who really admonished the dwarf King about his comment.

The little hobbit puckered his lips in irritation and pushed at Thorin’s arm, wiggling to get away. “Miss Tauriel did really well and it was only because he’s King that she didn’t win. Kings always win so she couldn’t help that.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying that Kings are undefeatable?”

“Yes,” Olo pouted, crossing his arms. Poor dear was really upset at the elf’s losing, he was taking it harder than Tauriel was.

“Now that,” Thorin said, tapping Olo on the nose. “Is not true. Kings are very often defeated, whether in games, council, and even battles. We are just like you and we must train in many things to be as skilled as others, but we cannot be the best at everything. While we are expected to be great warriors and leaders, often our duties can overwhelm us and defeat us before we even have a chance at winning. In fact, it is harder for us because we must educate ourselves on many subjects and in many types of weaponry so we can do what’s best for our people and protect you. You would not want a King who is only good at sitting around and eating all day would you?”

“I dunno,” Olo mumbled, biting his lip. Thorin smiled softly down at the hobbit in his lap, seemingly untroubled by Olo’s hesitance.  

 “Ah! No, uncle, do not say that!” Fili wailed, throwing himself across Bilbo and reaching for Olo. “You tear my dream asunder for that is the type of King I hope to be.”

“One who eats all day?” Bilbo coughed, the Prince’s weight surprisingly heavy.

“Yes!”

Olo giggled at the Prince, throwing himself against Thorin as Fili reached out to tickle the little hobbit again. In Fili’s wiggling, he accidently kicked Dis in the knee and elbowed Bilbo in the stomach. Both let out a gush of air and were almost knocked off their seats. The dwarves behind them catching them and helping them back up.

“Fili!” Hept yelled loudly, checking on his wife. Dis tried to shush him, complaining that there wasn’t anything done to her that she couldn’t handle, but her husband wouldn’t hear it. 

“Watch how you treat your mother! In her delicate--”

“ _Dearheart_!” Dis smiled through gritted teeth and pinched Hept again. The male dwarf paused, cocked his head to the side and watched his wife. Without words or motions somehow something was communicated between them and Hept settled. Nonetheless, the Prince had rolled off Bilbo and to his feet. 

“Sorry, I…” Fili quickly apologized to his mother and Bilbo before he made an excuse to go find Kili and disappeared. They all watched him leave, Dwalin muttering about foolish dwarves and Balin chastising his brother. No one else seemed too terribly perturbed by the situation, though Bilbo wondered at the relationship between father and sons.

“That boy,” Hept grumbled. 

“It’s fine, you know how they are. It’s partly your fault they are that way.” Dis rolled her eyes. 

Bilbo almost didn’t catch the look Hept gave Thorin and, too caught up in dealing with Olo, the King didn’t notice either. Wondering if the tension might really be with Thorin and not his sons, Bilbo speculated that Hept’s unusual behavior towards Fili and Kili were a result of that instead. Not knowing the inner workings of their family, Bilbo thought it well enough to leave alone. He had no business giving advice or suggesting how one should treat their kin, especially the dwarves’ royal family.    

Glancing back towards Thorin, Bilbo caught the dwarf in a whispered conversation with the little hobbit. Olo sat in Thorin’s lap facing each other, twisting one of the King’s many golden necklaces around his tiny fingers and snickering under his breath. 

“What are you two being so secretive about?”

“Nothing,” Olo giggled.

“It wouldn’t be a secret if we told you now, would it,” Thorin stated, giving Bilbo a snooty look. Dis made a sound behind him, but Bilbo didn’t glance back to see why. He could imagine though it had something to do with Thorin’s expression, the dwarf looked quite ridiculous with his nose in the air and puckering his lips. 

Instead Bilbo got to his feet so he could put a hand on his hip, ignoring the stunned stares from the other dwarves around them and glaring suspiciously at the two. As sweet at Thorin was around the lad, he didn’t trust either of them not to get in trouble somehow. A tingling in his toes made him apprehensive they were somehow talking about him and Bilbo knew the extremes Thorin could go to if he somehow thought it was warranted. 

“You better not be telling the dwarf King all our hobbit secret’s now, Olo. The Thain would be most displeased with you. And how will your father make money if he’s not the only one making the best brew this side of the Misty Mountains? And then he won’t be able to buy you that sling-shot you’ve been wanting?”

“I want a bow and arrow now,” Olo yelled, jumping off Thorin’s lap and throwing himself against Bilbo’s legs. “I’m going to learn archery and be better than King Bard and then Tauriel will fall madly in love with me.”

Thorin was frowning at Bilbo, “Hobbit secrets? What hobbit secrets?”

Laughing, Bilbo ran a hand through Olo’s curls. “It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you now, would it, your Majesty?”

Rolling his eyes, Thorin got to his feet also. It seemed the other dwarves around them were waiting for the King to exit before they did, allowing Thorin and his family to leave before them with little fuss. The one dwarf gave Bilbo and Olo a critical glance, but he never said or did anything threatening towards them so Bilbo left it alone. He couldn’t help what others thought of him – thinking him undeserving to be around Thorin and his family.

Dis asked Bilbo to join them for supper, but Bilbo had to beg off because Olo was yawning again. The little one was much too tired to spend any more time with company and Bilbo was afraid he’d fall asleep in his soup if given the chance. Olo didn’t even look to have the energy to stop by the elves one last time and congratulate Tauriel, though the little hobbit would have been pleased to do so. 

The news that they wouldn’t be joining them seemed to disappoint everybody and even Dwalin offered to walk them back to the Shire. Bilbo shook his head, explaining it was still daylight and there would be little dangers on the walk home that he’d need a guard to protect them. The others agreed under extreme difficulty to go about the rest of their day without them and Bilbo was relieved to have the chance to get Olo home without escort. 

It was Thorin’s steely gaze that gave Bilbo pause and even though they were surrounded by many people watching them, the two found themselves taking a step towards one another. Thorin’s body heat warm against Bilbo’s side, the two leaning into each other to share a quiet conversation.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Thorin nodded, lifting Olo into his arms so he could hug the limp hobbit in farewell, bestowing on the little one a traditional forehead tap between dwarven friends. 

“Ouch!” Olo giggled, slapping a hand over his head. 

“That did not hurt,” Thorin laughed, though he checked to make sure he did the hobbit no damage. Finding out Olo had just been teasing him, he tickled the little ones feet. Olo had certainly warmed up to the dwarf, taking liberties where one wouldn’t with a stranger. Thorin didn’t even seem to mind much in return.

 “What time?” Thorin asked Bilbo, not caring that Olo was touching his crown and inspecting the sharp angles to its design.

“After lunch”, Bilbo said. He’d decided to give themselves enough time to fix any discrepancies with Thorin’s wardrobe and sufficient time to make it to the party with little rushing. It would be bad form to be late to their first outing together, it would give the busybodies in the Shire much to gossip about if they were and it would be bad luck to their future betrothal.    

“I will see you then”, Thorin whispered, handing Olo over and brushing his fingers against Bilbo’s arm. The hobbit shivered at the touch, looking up at Thorin and wishing dearly they could have one last kiss. He didn’t care an ounce for propriety if he could only feel Thorin’s lips against his own, but he somehow knew that Thorin wouldn’t do such a thing in front of so many of his people. It didn’t seem to be in Thorin’s personality to be so open about his affections for others in public more than he’d already had. 

The thought lit a fire inside Bilbo. Thorin was doing so much to prove himself to Bilbo, to show him how much he was wanted, and in return the hobbit had done little to show the same affection. Bilbo felt like he’d been slacking in that department and promised himself he’d head home to work on the lovespoon as soon as possible. It was the least he could do, until things settled down with the Durin’s day festivities and they could go back to their regular courting. Then, he would court Thorin properly like a hobbit should in return. 

With one last goodbye to the others and a shamelessly adoring look towards Thorin, Bilbo headed back to the Shire. The day was still beautiful, the sky blue and the weather perfectly warm. If it hadn’t been for Olo being so tired, he’d have enjoyed the rest of the day in the faire.

It was only when Bilbo was halfway to Tuckborough that he had a thought. Jostling Olo awake, Bilbo kissed at the little hobbit’s temple and muttering soothing apologies for waking him. 

“I just need to ask you to keep a secret for me.”

“Like Mister Thorin did?” Olo yawned.

“Um, I’m not sure,” Bilbo said, wondering what types of secrets Thorin would be asking a young hobbit to keep and if he should be worried. “I just wanted to ask if you wouldn’t tell the others who Thorin is when he comes with me to the wedding tomorrow. It will cause a distraction and Miss Lobelia might skin me alive.”                           

“Huh?” Olo blinked large sleepy eyes at him. 

Bilbo bumped the hobbit higher on his hip. “I don’t want Miss Lobelia or the others to know that Thorin’s a King just yet. We’re going to surprise them later.”

“Oh, okay.” With that last word, Olo plopped his head back onto Bilbo’s shoulder and promptly fell back to sleep. It was how Odo greeted them when he came upon the Tuckborough residence, one exhausted little hobbit and his eager to be home uncle.   

Bilbo had things to prepare for.  

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now don’t hate Hept, he’s in an awkward position. In regards to his sons, I imagine it would be a difficult position to be in when his brother-in-law, the King, takes Fili and Kili as his heirs instead of having his own. With Thorin taking the boys under his wings so to speak, Hept isn’t as close to them as he’d like and he really can’t relate to them in regular familiar ways he wants to. He wishes best for his boys, but it’s got to be awkward when they look up to Thorin more than they do their own dad. Thorin probably doesn’t make things easier for him either, but that’s another story for another day.


	21. Ribbons and Bows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone should have warned Thorin to wear his dancing shoes.

****

The morning of the wedding was bright and sunny, a perfect day for two hobbits to bind themselves in matrimony for the rest of their lives. 

From the top of the hill at Bag End, Bilbo had the perfect view to see the goings-on from his door step. By now the party tree was completely decorated, the tents were set up, and the decorations were almost done. A few family members were down in the field making sure things were perfect, that there were enough seats and the stage was set for the orchestra and the dance floor roped off from a couple of wandering goats. Hobbits ran up and down the road way, trailing flower petals and fabrics to garland the area, making even the journey to the wedding venue fashionable. White and pink ribbons festooned the wedding arch, along with more pink flowers and some gold wheat twisted into the large pink bows tied all about the area, pink fabric and yellow flowers running down the walkway and continuing down the aisle. The sign Bilbo had created hung from the archway, the bold hyphenated Sackville-Baggins name spelled out in large cursive for all to see.  

Sipping tea and smoking a bit of pipe-weed from his porch, Bilbo waved to a few neighbors and family members who rushed by on last minute errands. Most wanted to know what he’d gotten for the couple as a wedding gift, but Bilbo stayed mum on the subject and told them they’d have to wait and see. There was still plenty of time before the wedding was to start, but everyone acted like there was still much to do before then and they hurried off to home or market with little time for conversation. Hamfast even looked frazzled, Bell ordering him to run down to his brother‘s house and take back the nice coat and vest Andwise hadn’t thought to return after he’d borrowed it for his promotion party.

“Good morning, Mister Baggins,” Hamfast hollered.

“Morning, Gamgee!” Bilbo waved back with his pipe.

The other hobbit paused for a moment and leaned against Bilbo’s gate. “Will Mister Thorin be joining us today for the celebrations? I heard rumors you were bringing a guest.”

Smiling, Bilbo nodded. “Yes, he’ll be by later. He’s skipping out on his duties with the others under the excuse he’s improving hobbit-dwarf relations by coming to the wedding. I’m to be his escort.”

“Ha!” Hamfast laughed. “Well, you’ll be an excellent escort to the King. I just hope he doesn’t think too bad of us all because of Miss Lobelia. He’ll leave tonight thinking we’re all fussy and persnickety like she is. She’s been a right peculiar with her demands for this wedding, wanting things to be perfect – and all that _pink_. Not going to improve hobbit-dwarf relations if she runs him off with her aggravating him like she’s done everyone else.”  

“Nonsense,” Bilbo puffed at his pipe. “Lobelia’s a fine lass when she wants to be.”

“Yes, _when she wants to be_ ,” Hamfast grumbled.

Rolling his eyes, Bilbo continued, “And she’ll be much too occupied with Otho and the celebrations to even wonder about the dwarf I brought along as company. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

“If you say so,” Hamfast said, looking down at the field with a look of beaten resignation. Bell popped her head out of her smial and yelled at the other hobbit to hurry it up, and with a quick goodbye, Hamfast was heading off towards his brother‘s. 

Bilbo was just finishing his pipe when Paladin wobbled up the road, huffing and puffing up the hill and sweating through his tunic.

“Mister Bilbo Baggins!”

“Mister Paladin Took,” Bilbo hollered back, emptying his pipe ash in the garden.

The other hobbit about collapsed against the fence, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his forehead and neck. “I’m most cross with you Mister Baggins. If I could catch my breath for a moment, I’d yell at you.”

“What for?” Bilbo laughed. Paladin didn’t look too upset with him that he had to worry, so he was most likely was joking. 

“The Elves!”

“Oh.” Bilbo froze, he’d almost forgotten about that. Too caught up in thoughts of the wedding and Thorin, he’d hardly given a thought to the elves and the party Bilbo had accidently invited them to. 

“Yes, _oh_.” Paladin stood up straight and pulled a letter from his pocket. He shook it out, showing off the cream paper and fancy blue writing. “Says here that a Mister Bilbo Baggins went and invited the Mirkwood entourage to a party with the ‘Shirelings’, and that Elvenking Thranduil was most pleased to accept the invitation the hobbits have granted his people.” Paladin folded the letter back up and gave Bilbo a disgruntled glare. “So tell me, what is your excuse?”

Bilbo flushed under the look the other hobbit sent him. Frazzled by his mistake and unsure how the others would take the news, he explained as best as he could the events of yesterday, about Olo and Tauriel, Legolas and his father. Eventually he made it clear it was an accident, but a well meaning one.

Paladin was smiling by the end of the talk, chuckling about Olo‘s crush on the beautiful Mirkwood elf and rolling his eyes at the elves’ misunderstanding. “Well, I imagine it could work out in our favor. We haven’t had any trade agreements with them for a few decades or so, and the elves are a gentle folk. This could be a good thing!”

“That’s what I thought too,” Bilbo said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and trying not to squirm.

Paladin shook a finger at Bilbo. “But you need to stop inviting so many strange folk to the Shire. Bad enough with those dwarves popping up all over the place, but now elves, too! What’s next, you going to invite the King of Dale over for a cup of tea?”

Laughing nervously, Bilbo scratched at the back of his neck. “Maybe? He’s in Erebor for the holiday and he might like to sit down in a peaceful hobbit hole for a small snack. Get away from all the crowds and such.”

“Right, I’d like to see that,” Paladin chuckled in disbelief. “Well, I’m off to tell the council about this, they’ll want to know we’ll be having guests tomorrow evening. Need to spread the word and all that. There’s a possibility the others might be excited to make the trade agreements at least. Have a good day, Bilbo!”

“Right, well, sorry about all the trouble. A bit of a mistake really. Have a lovely day!” Bilbo waved as Paladin hurried off down the road to the great smials. He stopped to talk to the hobbits he passed, probably informing them of the company they should be expecting tomorrow by the shocked expressions of the neighbors. 

Sighing heavily, Bilbo tucked his pipe into his pockets and went inside to make lunch. Master Pumpernickel was already waiting for him, a dead mouse at his feet.

“Goodness! What is this?”

The beast looked expectantly at Bilbo and pushed the carcass towards him.

“Right,” Bilbo declared, glancing towards the ceiling like the answers might be there. “I’ll deal with this, you go get ready for lunch. Wash your paws or whatever you do.”

Master Pumpernickel grumbled but wandered off towards the bathroom to do what was asked. While the cat was away, Bilbo grabbed an old, used napkin and picked the dead mouse up by the tail. He had no where to put it that the beast wouldn’t find, except maybe…

Rushing to the garden, Bilbo quickly dug a small shallow grave and dropped the mouse into it. He covered it quickly up, and then plucked a few tomatoes as an excuse for being outside. He still hadn’t figured out why Master Pumpernickel was bringing dead things home. It was almost like the beast expected Bilbo to eat what he caught!

Lunch was a quick and quiet affair, Bilbo not wanting to stuff himself on food when there would be plenty to eat later. He had a nice cobb salad, sharing bits of bacon and eggs with the cat. The creature did not inquire what Bilbo had done with his gift and instead plopped onto his usual spot on the window seal for his meal. Eating hurriedly before he too rushed off out the window and down the hill towards town.     

With nothing to do until Thorin arrived, Bilbo took a seat in his living room and worked on whittling the lovespoon. He’d gotten down the general shape last night, and now he was working on the first design. The first part so far was a series of circular knots, something he’d seen in one of the books Thorin had given him and that meant eternity and a stable life together. Then he was thinking of adding a willow tree, to symbolize their first meeting, and perhaps a butterfly for the transformation Thorin had wrought on him because of their coming together. He was also thinking about a few flowers to add, small things designed into the tree limps as not to take up much room but still denote the message Bilbo was trying to get across. There was so much he wanted to make clear to Thorin, like how much Bilbo loved him and wanted to be with him, but there was not enough wood in all of Middle-Earth that could be carved up to tell the story of his feelings for his dwarf.   

Then, there was a heavy knock at the door. Looking out the window and noticing where the sun was, the hobbit rushed to the door, knowing exactly who it was.

“Thorin! I’m so happy to….” Bilbo trailed off, taking a step back to get a good look at the dwarf’s attire.

“What?” Thorin asked, brows furrowed in confusion. He looked down at his feet like maybe he wore the wrong type of shoes for the party. “It is appropriate wedding garb.”

Bilbo choked back a laugh, “Maybe for your own wedding. Thorin, these are hobbits. We don’t wear anything near as… _stylish_ as that.”

Thorin picked at the hem of his long coat, inspecting the stunning dark purple silk and fine silver stitching to try to find what had displeased the hobbit about his clothes. Bilbo actually thought he looked rather handsome if the occasion had called for them to dress so nice, but sadly Thorin would stand out in that outfit and it would make Lobelia mad for drawing attention away from her. 

For once, Thorin had forgone his heavy, furred robe, maybe because the weather was too warm or it wasn’t necessary since his coat was sufficient enough. The violet color brought out the blue in Thorin’s eyes and the almost marble paleness of his skin; the silver edging had a starburst pattern going out from the neck and down his chest before fading into smaller star-like design that dripped down to the hem. There were small blue stones speckled about the fabric to give an extra sparkle and tiny pearls sewn into the edging and crawling up the sleeves. His trousers were the same purple as the coat, except they had no design or patterns and fitted to his legs in a nicely draped effect that wasn’t tight against his thick muscles. Even the dwarf’s shoes were elegant looking, instead of the large, clunky looking boots he usually wore, Thorin had opted for a smaller slipper-looking type that showed his ankles. The shoes were mostly silver in color and with a closer inspection Bilbo saw that there were actual diamonds decorating them, making it look like Thorin was wearing glass slippers. 

“You certainly….” Bilbo paused, unsure where to continue. He wanted to compliment Thorin, but he certainly couldn’t let the dwarf think it was appropriate to wear _diamond slippers_ to Lobelia’s wedding. They’d never hear the end of it!

“This is traditional dwarven wedding wear,” Thorin grumbled, looking upset that Bilbo wasn’t shocked by his outfit in a more flattering manner.      

“Well, I--I…” Bilbo stuttered, “It’s lovely, certainly. But, Thorin, um, it’s rather… um, _elaborate_ looking for a hobbit party.”

“Elaborate?” Thorin frowned, stepping into Bilbo’s hobbit hole and closing the door behind him. Bilbo wondered briefly if the other hobbits had stared at Thorin as he traveled to Bag End. It sure must have made a sight, a regal looking dwarf in purple and silver traversing the lush hills in his pretty slippers. There would probably be gossip about it at the party.

“Yes, well, Miss Lobelia certainly isn’t royalty, so there’s no reason to go wearing our best outfit for the occasion.”

Raising an eyebrow, Thorin smiled in relief. “So you are saying I’m over dressed?”

“Precisely,” Bilbo sighed, thankful Thorin had figured out what he was trying to say. He really did think the outfit stunning, but it wasn’t something one wore around the Shire for any occasion. No one would think Thorin a regular dwarf wearing that, even Ginnar’s wedding clothes hadn’t been that rich looking.

Thorin pulled at the seam of his coat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I could go back and change, but I am unsure if I have something more appropriate.”

 “Right,” Bilbo said, rolling up his sleeves. “I might have something that will fit you.”

“I do not think your clothes will fit me, Bilbo.”

“Maybe not, but…” Bilbo pulled Thorin along with him down the hallway and to the spare bedroom. He’d thought something like this could happen and he’d washed and dried all the spare clothes yesterday just in case. There might be something that would suit the dwarf. “While my father might not have been as tall, he without doubt was as wide in the shoulder like you. I kept some of his things after his demise and it would be more suitable for Otho and Lobelia’s wedding than what you are wearing.”

“You would have me wear a dead man’s clothes?” Thorin pulled up short, causing Bilbo to stumble into the bed post. The creases around his eyes were pronounced as Thorin’s expression changed to one of dread and horror.  

Bilbo blinked, surprised by Thorin’s trepidation. “Um, yes?”

“I cannot,” Thorin stated, crossing his arms. “No dwarf would ever dawn the clothes of someone already passed.” 

“But…” Bilbo gaped, unsure if he’d somehow offended Thorin by the look of him. There wasn’t anything in the book he’d gotten about wearing used clothes, though he remembered the thing about dueling when one put on another’s shoes. In a practical matter it didn’t sound very sensible. Hobbit’s kept clothes until there were holes in them and the linens were almost see-through. Most clothing could be passed down and it was always too expensive to keep a closet full of new garments. Bilbo was certain he had a velvet blue coat from his great great grandsire that was still in perfect condition. He’d actually planned to wear it tonight to the party. 

“It is a grave offense,” Thorin explained. “And you are inviting the owner’s loss upon yourself by outfitting yourself with their clothing. I would sooner go naked than do that.”

Bilbo squeaked, blushing to the tips of his ears. He didn’t know what was worse, that he’d been so ignorant of the dwarf’s superstitions or the image of Thorin naked at a party full of hobbits. Both were equally embarrassing, if for his lack of knowledge and his lustful mind.    

“Well,” Bilbo cleared his throat, wondering what there was to do now. Thorin couldn’t wear what he had on and he refused the extra clothes Bilbo had. If the tailor had been open they could have made a quick trip there and bought something but they’d be closed for the party, Lobelia having invited them to the wedding – not just for creating her dress – as it was only good manners to request them to be in attendance. There was little time to create something himself, though Bilbo had the fabric and the skill to do it.

“Here,” Thorin muttered and started unbuttoning his coat. For a quick moment, Bilbo had actually assumed Thorin was disrobing completely! Only instead, the long coat opened to reveal a plain cream cotton tunic tucked into his trousers, the neck line dipped past what would be considered proper for a hobbit, but on Thorin it looked rather dashing.  

Bilbo tapped at his chin, walking a circle around the dwarf and inspecting the clothes. Without the jacket, the outfit didn’t look so grand. Though the pants were still a deep silk purple, they would be passable if a bit flamboyant, and the shirt was plain enough not to draw so much attention. Maybe if Thorin borrowed a few of Bilbo’s accessories, like a scarf and boutonniere? “If I could find one of my waistcoats to fit you, could you wear it?”

Thorin folded up his coat and set in on the end table. “If something fits I could, but it would be seen as rather presumptuous considering we are not officially engaged.”

“But you could,” Bilbo asked, nodding along as he thought. He’d just bought that grey waistcoat and while it suited Bilbo perfectly, there might was a small chance it could fit Thorin.

Inclining his head towards Bilbo, Thorin made a movement with his left hand that confused the hobbit. Thorin motioned with his hand from his chest in a crossing motion, made two circles in the air, and then gestured towards Bilbo. 

“What does that mean?”

Thorin sighed heavily, “It means I…yes. Yes, I will wear your clothes, but in return I ask that you allow me to put my braid in your hair.”

“My hair?” Bilbo echoed, grabbing at the locks in question. It was still quite short for braids and such, and he hadn’t expected Thorin to make any requests about courting braids until it was longer. Bilbo had purposefully missed his monthly appointments with his aunt Donnamira Took to get it trimmed since Thorin had started courting him.

Thorin smiled at Bilbo, seemingly charmed by the hobbit’s befuddled demeanor. “If you still have the bead I gave you, we can use that one temporarily. At least until I can make something better.”

“Oh. Oh!” Bilbo startled, “Yes, I do. Um, just a minute and I’ll go grab it. Them! I mustn’t forget the waistcoat, it’s in my closet, and maybe that purple scarf I got from Prim two years ago, the ones with the daisies…”

Bilbo hurried off to his room with Thorin’s laughter following him.  

He could feel his face heat up in a blush. Hands trembling, Bilbo almost dropped the small box with the bead inside. The scarf was thankfully easy to find, it was in his dresser drawer right on top and looking good as new. He hadn’t worn the thing except once, when he’d gone to Brandy Hall for Dodinas Brandybuck’s birthday. It was much too delicate looking for his usual wear, the cloth silk with large purple daisies stitched around the edges and even a bit of sheer ruffles at the ends.        

Thorin took one look at the scarf and scowled.

“You want me to wear that?”

Bilbo thrust the grey waistcoat at the dwarf. “This too, if it fits.”

Setting down the biscuits he’d been helping himself to, Thorin took the clothing into hand and inspected it. Compared to what Thorin had on earlier, the plain grey cloth looked dull and dreary, but it was proper hobbit wear and wouldn’t draw the type of attention the other outfit would. With a shrug, Thorin tried to slip into the waistcoat. 

“Um…” Bilbo winced, watching Thorin try to worm the waistcoat onto his shoulders without ripping it. The problem seemed to be that there just wasn’t enough room between one arm hole and the other, and Thorin got stuck halfway with his arms midair. 

“It doesn’t fit,” Thorin stated, like Bilbo couldn’t see that.

“Oh bother,” Bilbo muttered, going around to Thorin’s back to look over what could be done. The dwarf’s shoulders were just much too large for anything of Bilbo’s. He’d tear anything he tried on.

With a bit of help, Thorin was able to get the waistcoat off. So as an alternative, Bilbo tied the purple scarf around the dwarf‘s neck in an ascot knot before tucking the end into Thorin’s shirt, so that the middle part of the scarf puffed out. Thorin stood there and let Bilbo work his magic, not minding an ounce when the hobbit’s hands slipped into his shirt and brushed through his chest hair. Bilbo blushed, ignoring the thrill that shot up his spine at the touch and concentrated instead on making the dwarf King look hobbitish. 

“Perfect!” Bilbo chirped, stepping back and surveying his work. 

Thorin made a face at the puffy scarf snagging on his stubble and had to flatten it against his chest to be able to look around. “Yes…perfect.”

“Well, okay,” Bilbo sighed, fixing the scarf again because Thorin’s fussing had messed it up. “Not completely perfect. I have something else to add to it, give me a moment to find it.”

When Bilbo returned to where he’d left Thorin, the dwarf was gone.

“Thorin?”

“In here,” the dwarf’s voice carried down the hallway from the sitting room. Bilbo walked in, boutonnière in hand and found Thorin staring at the new addition to the hobbit’s wall. Last night Bilbo had taken some time to find, set, and then enclose in a frame the clipping of Thorin’s beard, now proudly displayed for all to see. The tradition of framing hair clippings was old, usually a mother would take the first clippings from her child’s hair and set them in a locket or memory book. Since Bilbo wasn’t a mother he had neither of these things on hand, but he still wanted to commiserate somehow Thorin’s depth of affection he confessed to having for Bilbo so he’d done this instead. He knew how important their beards were to dwarves.

“You like?” Bilbo asked, peering up at Thorin’s unusually blank expression.

The dwarf could hardly draw his gaze away from the picture frame. “It is…. honestly, a bit morbid.”

“Morbid!” Bilbo sputtered. He didn’t understand, he thought Thorin would be appreciative of what he’d done. 

“You exhibit my severed beard in your home like a hunter displaying the stuffed head of a prized kill. I do not know how to feel about this, I’ve never seen such a thing done before to a dwarf. I know I deserve whatever scorn I bring upon myself, for what I have done in the past, but you have said that all is forgiven. Was I mistaken?” 

Heart racing and with no thought to what he was doing, Bilbo quickly pulled the picture frame off the wall and stuffed it under the couch cushions. “There, think nothing of it no longer. Pretend you never even saw it.” 

Thorin turned slowly, eyes tentative as he looked the hobbit over. “Are you sure that it wasn’t a memento, to remind me not to dishonor you again?” 

“Of course not, don’t be silly,” Bilbo chuckled nervously. 

“I am still curious why you did that,” Thorin said after an awkward moment. “Is it some hobbit tradition, to mount the trophies you’ve won from your enemies?”

Flailing wildly and almost dropping the small cluster of flowers, Bilbo poked Thorin in the chest with a finger. “Trophies! Enemies? Thorin, you are not making a lick of sense. I did not do that to embarrass you or remind you of the ‘dishonor’ you did to me. I thought it was a thoughtful gesture, us hobbits do things like that with the first cutting of a child’s hair or even a lover’s lock set into a locket. Obviously there’s too much hair for a locket, so I thought a picture frame would be better.” 

“Ah…” Thorin nodded, looking a bit relieved. “So it is a hobbit thing.”

“Yes,” Bilbo gushed, hoping to reassure Thorin enough he’d lose that pained expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I thought I was being thoughtful. I know how much your beard meant to you.”

Thorin’s mouth twisted and he scrunched up his nose. “I should not have said anything, the beard is yours to do with. If you want to mount it I have no say in it.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo sighed, grabbing the dwarf’s hands and leading him from the room entirely. The kitchen seemed like a safer place for conversation, nothing bad ever happened there. “Let’s just forget about it, chalk it up to a misunderstanding on my part. Now, let’s get ready for the wedding. I still need to get dressed and I need to wrap the present before we leave.”   

Standing still so Bilbo could pin the boutonnière, Thorin’s expression turned curious as he looked down at the pink carnation and tiny yellow flowers, flicking the strand of wheat with his thumb. “What is this for?”

“It’s usually an accent for formal occasions, and it typically goes through the buttonholes on your lapel. We’ll just have to make due, if I could find a bit of ribbon and tie the end off maybe it will look…” Bilbo trailed off as he looked around. Maybe that ribbon Thorin had bought him, the one with the silver edging? He thought he remembered stuffing it in a drawer in the dining room, last time he’d seen it.

Ribbon found and with a bow made to hold the flowers together, Bilbo pinned it to the middle of the scarf. It didn’t look too bad - if Thorin had had a better coat or even a waistcoat it wouldn’t have looked so outlandish, but there was little that could be done. It was sort of strange seeing Thorin, who usually wore dark colors and heavy robes, in light silk and a ruffles scarf instead. Not that he looked bad, Thorin looked rather striking still. The color was complementary to him and softer fabrics made the dwarf seem more approachable. The shoes, well, not much could be done about that. The hobbits would think him odd enough wearing them, never mind that they were decorated with diamonds, and as long as Thorin could dance in them there should be no problem.

Bilbo looked at the ribbon in hand then eyed Thorin’s hair shrewdly. “Can I?”

Thorin squinted back at him, still bothered by the frilly scarf aggravating his short beard. “Can you what?”

Holding the ribbon up, Bilbo grinned. “Your hair. Can I pull it back and tie it with a bow? It would look so much better than being loose.”

Sighing loudly, Thorin flopped back into the kitchen chair and shook his hair over his shoulders. “Fine, but be gentle. And you will tell no one I let you put ribbon in my hair. I would never hear the end of it from Dis.”

Laughing, Bilbo crept forward and ran his fingers through Thorin’s locks tenderly. The dwarf’s hair was  thick like Bilbo’s own hair, but curlier and dark like his mothers had been. It was soft, though it didn’t much look like it would be, and it seemed to be well cared for. It was somewhat intimate being allowed to do this, and Bilbo felt very pleased that Thorin had allowed him to. The dwarf hadn’t even given it a second thought, just sat down and let the hobbit do as he wanted. Knowing the trust Thorin put in him, Bilbo did his best not to do anything to somehow offend the dwarf. Bilbo left the two side braids loose from the hair he was gathering at the back of Thorin’s head, and as he was combing his fingers through the dwarf’s hair he came upon a gold clasp on the underside of Thorin’s hair. He pinched it between his fingers and bent over to look at it.

“What’s this?”

Leaning his head to the side so he could see the hobbit, Thorin smiled. “My father and mother made that for me.”

“It’s very beautiful,” Bilbo said as he examined the fine gold etching. It at first looked simple, just a plain gold clasp, but with closer inspection it had a series of geometric designs engraved into it. He’d seen the design before, though he could not remember where.

“Thank you.” Thorin sat up straight and let Bilbo finish. Using two strips of ribbon, Bilbo tied his hair at the nape of Thorin’s neck and fluffed the ribbon up into a thick bow to match the boutonnière and scarf. Taking a step back, Bilbo surveyed what he’d done. And he was very satisfied with what he had done. Now Thorin’s hair wouldn’t get in the way when he danced and it also lent a certain youthful appearance to the dwarf. He’d suggest Thorin wear his hair up more often if Bilbo wasn’t the jealous type. As it was, Bilbo would have to fight the lads and lasses off Thorin while he looked that good.

Thorin beckoned Bilbo to sit beside him. 

“You don’t want to see what I’ve done?” Bilbo asked, sitting next to Thorin.

“I will trust your judgment in this. Now, do you have the bead on you? I wish to braid yours.”

Digging through his pockets, Bilbo finally came upon the gold jeweled bead. It still looked too heavy to be braided into his hair comfortably, but if Thorin was willing to wear ribbons and flowers, Bilbo would do this for him. He waited patiently as Thorin first touched the bead, as if checking it for any imperfections it had gotten in Bilbo’s care, and then he set the bead heavily on the table and moved to straddle the chair.

“I will be gentle,” Thorin said calmly, like he was expecting to startle the hobbit with any quick movements. If there had been time, Bilbo would have told him to story of when he had gotten tree resin in his hair as a child and his father had tried to comb it out before his mother had gotten home. He’d had an odd haircut that summer, even by hobbit standards.    

Bilbo closed his eyes as the first touch of Thorin’s fingers through his curls. It was soothing, having someone run their fingers through his hair. It reminded him of a time when he was a child and his mother would comb it at night before bed, the motions relaxing and pleasant, which caused him to sigh peacefully in bliss. Thorin stroked gently, almost like he was afraid to hurt Bilbo in any way, and hardly pulled on the strands as he twisted them into the plait. The braid seemed to start somewhere around Bilbo’s temple, and after Thorin added more hair, it ran along the edge of his hairline and tucked behind his ear where the hair was a bit longer. There, Thorin let the braid drop and the bead was clipped on to dangle around his ear lobe. 

Thorin sat back and admired his work. “Once we are married, I can make the braid sit before your ears, like mine. Until then, it must go behind. Does it bother you or are you content with it?”

Smiling widely at Thorin, Bilbo jumped to his feet and kissed the dwarf’s cheek. Thorin blinked, startled by the hobbit’s action.

“Let’s find a mirror, and then we can be in awe of each other’s work.”

Bilbo led Thorin into the bathroom, the only mirror large enough for both of them to look at together. They stood side by side and studied each other’s efforts. Bilbo had thought the braid was quite smart, it kept his bangs out of his eyes, and it was also surprisingly attractive looking. It didn’t make the hobbit look girlish, which was a fear he hadn’t voiced for worry of offending Thorin, and it oddly suited him. Bilbo was rather happy with what Thorin had done. He turned to praise the dwarf when he caught Thorin’s frown.

“What’s wrong?”

Thorin’s face quickly went blank. “Nothing.”

Bilbo sighed, catching Thorin’s quick glance as it went from the bow in his hair to the puffy scarf. It seemed his efforts weren’t as appreciated as the dwarf’s were. “If you don’t like it you don’t have to wear either.”

Shaking his head, Thorin turned and put his hands on Bilbo’s hips. “No. I will leave them. I just need to get used to it.”

“You don’t like it though,” Bilbo whispered, looking down at his feet. Next to his bare feet were Thorin’s diamond encrusted slippers. They sparkled in the small sliver of light coming in through the window, sending rainbows about the wall and floor.

Thorin pulled him forward and kissed his temple, around where the braid started. “I do like it, I promise.”

“But--” Bilbo started to say but Thorin silenced him with his lips. The bead tickled warmly at his ear, tapping against his jaw as the hobbit canted his head to the side to make the ease of their kissing deeper. Bilbo moaned, fisting Thorin’s shirt in his hands and standing on his toes to reach up. Thorin made an answering groan, hands moving from Bilbo’s hips to his back, reaching up and grabbing at his shoulders from behind, clutching the hobbit tightly against his chest and most likely squashing the flowers pinned to his scarf.

“Mmm…wa-wait!” Bilbo pulled back, licking his lips and meeting Thorin’s hooded blue-grey eyes. “We c-can’t, I assured Lobelia I wouldn’t be late.”

“It would just be a few minutes, surely?” Thorin’s gaze wandered from Bilbo’s eyes to his red-puffy lips. He leaned forward, as if to close the gap between them and drag Bilbo into another exhilarating kiss. 

“No! No, no, no,” Bilbo muttered, pushing back. “She will kill us both. She won’t even care that you’re a King, she’ll skin us alive and cook us for supper to serve to the guests.”

Thorin frowned. “She sounds like a troll.”

Bilbo giggled, high on his emotions and nervous suddenly about Thorin meeting the family. He couldn’t help himself. “She can be, but she’s not always horrid. I think the weddings gotten to her, she has the madness.”

“Madness?”

Bilbo cocked his head to the side and felt the bead brush against his ear again. It would take some getting used to. “Marriage madness? You know the-- oh never mind, I’ll explain later. I need to change or we really will be late.” 

Thorin grumbled but released the hobbit, allowing Bilbo to rush to his room and change into his nicer clothes. He had aired out his blue velveteen jacket, yellow waistcoat, and tan trousers for the wedding. Once dressed, he also threw a light blue scarf around his own neck, pinned the boutonnière to his lapels, and made sure his buttons were perfectly polished. He nowhere looked as dashing as Thorin did, but it would do.

With the last bit of ribbon, Bilbo tied a quick bow around the large copper soup pot he bought for Lobelia and Otho. Knowing they both would be excited to see such an expensive item displayed for them to the envy of others and not hidden under thick wrapping paper. Inside the pot was a couple of other items, the usual marriage mathoms and also a small book on couples gardening, six silver spoons, two floral painted teacups, and the honeyed-wax tapers he’d gotten at the faire. The pot alone would have been sufficient, but Bilbo thought it was owed that he got more. They’d been his friends since childhood, and no matter the problems they’d had with each other, they always stuck up for him when he was in a bind or someone was spreading foul gossip about him. 

“What’s that?” Thorin asked when he saw Bilbo hauling the heavy container down the hall. 

“My present for the newlyweds,” Bilbo said. He didn’t put up a fuss when Thorin took it from him, knowing the dwarf could carry it since he had the strength. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Thorin smiled down at him. “Are we ready to go? I already sent my present to the venue.”

Bilbo froze in fixing his waistcoat and slowly looked up at the dwarf. “What?”

Thorin opened the door, holding the pot under one arm and looking back at Bilbo with a curious expression. “You didn’t think I would come to the wedding of one of your family members and not provide a gift of my own, did you? That would be dishonorable of me.” 

“Oh Thorin, you didn’t!” Bilbo wailed, “If you were worried about that we could have just said my gift was from both of us.”

“Nonsense,” Thorin huffed. “Your family would think I could not provide for you and refuse my offer of marriage.”

Bilbo let Thorin grab his hand, pulling Bilbo from his home and into the open sunshine.  “But this is a hobbit wedding, only family gives the newlyweds presents. Otherwise the couple is handing out gifts to their guests. It’s tradition.”         

“Well,” Thorin smirked. “Then if it is like you say, as family we will say both our presents are from us.”

“Oh, now who‘s being presumptuous,” Bilbo laughed, swinging their arms as they walked towards the party tree. Thorin hadn’t let go of him once they both were outside and the door closed behind them, instead holding his hand tightly in Bilbo’s even as they walked in public. Bilbo felt a hot weight settle in his stomach, satisfied and delighted to hear Thorin consider him family. It meant a lot to the hobbit. Though they hadn’t finished their courtship, it had a sense of permanency that the word lovers didn’t have. Something unbreakable and stable, with a hopeful future for them both together.

Thorin shrugged, looking very pleased with himself. “You wear my bead and my braid. Soon I will give you the third courting gift.”

“Ah,” Bilbo sighed softly, smiling up at the sun as they traveled, letting Thorin lead them. He just enjoyed the cool air, the soft grass under his feet, and the warm hand in his. Humming to himself until he had a thought.

“What did you get for Otho and Lobelia for a present?” It was a curious thought, knowing that Thorin wasn’t acquainted with either hobbit.

“I had help, Balin suggested it actually. Otherwise I would have just given them a purse full of gold coins and a jeweled broach.”

Bilbo gulped. That wouldn’t have been received well, or rather, Lobelia would have _loved_ the gift. The rest of the family though would think Thorin was upstaging them and would have resented the dwarf for such a grand gift. Balin, though, seemed to have a good head on his shoulder. Bilbo believed he would suggest something practical for two newly wedded hobbits.

“So what did you get?” Bilbo asked, dying of curiosity. 

Thorin pointed. Bilbo followed his gaze and didn’t see anything up a table full of growing presents under the party tree and a small dapple pony with a main full of roses grazing where the goats had been earlier. Whoever was letting their animals out at a time like this was going to get an earful from Lobelia.

“I don’t get it?” Bilbo frowned, wondering if Thorin was pointing to a specific present.

Still pointing, Thorin moved Bilbo to the side to get a better view. “I got them that, seemed useful for a family that owns a farm.”  

“What does?” 

“The pony,” Thorin said in exasperation.

Bilbo tripped over a rock and would have smashed his nose onto the cobblestone if Thorin hadn’t caught him.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late, my birthday was last weekend so RL happened. Also, I got a wonderful beta now, the marvelous Caristia who also helped me fix up the grammar in Ch 20, so I’m hoping things read better for everyone. She’s been a real star with getting this chapter out so quickly. On another note, I want to warn that I will be going on vacation to DisneyWorld April 12-21 so I doubt I’ll have much time to write very many new chapters after this week. I’ll try, but no guarantees. Sorry lovelies =(


	22. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin experiences a hobbit wedding.

****

 

“You got them a pony,” Bilbo hissed in disbelief, tugging on Thorin’s arm.

Thorin looked taken aback, blinking wildly as he looked down at the frowning hobbit. “Yes?”

Bilbo glared. “Did you or didn’t you? You don’t sound so sure.”

“Maybe?”

“Thorin!” Bilbo groaned, knocking his head against the dwarf’s bicep. “I can’t believe you.”

Thorin shrugged, putting an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder and hugging him close. “Sorry, I thought it was an excellent idea.”

“A pony,” Bilbo scoffed, and then he started to giggle. To think he’d been worried about Thorin giving Lobelia and Otho a satchel full of gold. At least a pony was handy in the sense that it could be used every day and was useful for chores on the farm.  Bilbo’s extended family was either going to love Thorin or absolutely despise him, it could go either way. Hobbits generally disliked others who flaunted their wealth, but they also liked sensible spending. A pony was sensible spending, though for someone Thorin had never met it was a bit outlandish.

Thorin seemed to take Bilbo’s sudden good humor to mean he was in the clear, and he leaned down to place a quick kiss on the hobbit’s temple. “Like you said, it can be from both of us.”

Groaning, Bilbo pinched the dwarf’s sides. That wasn’t a response he appreciated. The family would just be mad at him instead!

They made it to the field where the wedding was set up right on time. There was still a couple of good spots to sit, away from the older relatives in the front who’d scoff or blubber through the ceremony, and the younger children in the back with their parents, who’d wail and fuss from sitting still too long. Bilbo led Thorin through the throng of hobbits waiting about, conversing with each other and let his aunt Camellia take the copper pot from Thorin and set it with the rest of the presents. The pony, still decorated with roses and chewing on grass, neighed at them, like it recognized Thorin.

Bilbo gave Thorin a pointed glare which the dwarf ignored.

“It’s very… pink.” Thorin looked around, taking in all the decorations and seating arrangements. The few hobbits around them eyed Thorin with thinly veiled puzzlement, until they looked from the dwarf to the hobbit tucked under his arm before nodding their heads in understanding. Most gave the couple a curious glance before they went back to whatever conversations they were having before their arrival. The hobbits seemed amiable to Thorin being a guest, not put off by the dwarf’s presence among them, and thankfully, no one appeared to recognize Thorin for who he really was.

“Well, it’s Lobelia’s favorite color,” Bilbo said, shrugging out of Thorin’s hold so they could file down the aisle for a seat. There were two empty spots on the bench next to Mirabella and Gorbadoc Brandybuck, his broad of seven children sitting behind them and giggling to themselves as they watched Thorin flatten his scarf against his chest. The dwarf seemed to pay them no mind, worried more about knocking into the hobbits sitting in front of them as they squeezed through to their seats.

“Hello there, Bilbo,” Mirabella smiled, moving her purse aside so the hobbit could sit. “Lovely day for a wedding isn’t it?”

“That it is, Mrs. Brandybuck. How are you and Gorbadoc today?”

“Just well, thank you for asking,” Mirabella said, looking past Bilbo towards his companion. “Who’s this now?”

Bilbo tugged on Thorin’s sleeve to get his attention, the dwarf had been waving to Olo across the aisle. Odo Proudfoot couldn’t seem to handle the small hobbit and Olo was jumping up and down waving like a loon to the exasperations of his parents. “Mirabella Brandybuck, meet my companion Thorin Oakenshield. Thorin, this is my aunt Mirabella from the Took side. Her husband is Master of Buckland.”

“Please to meet you, my lady,” Thorin said agreeably, inclining his head.

Mirabella tittered, her cheeks turning a rosy pink. “Oh my, he’s a handsome one, Bilbo, and such good manners. It’s a pleasure to meet you also, Mister Oakenshield.”

Bilbo couldn’t be sure, but he thought Thorin might have winked at the matriarch. “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” 

Primula made a high squeaking noise behind them and Bilbo gave her a look. Dinodas elbowed his sister and the two started whistling and watching the clouds. Rolling his eyes, Bilbo wagged a finger at his cousins and Primula stuck her tongue out at him.  Bilbo turned back to the conversation between Thorin and his aunt and uncle and was surprised to find the three laughing over something while he hadn’t been paying attention.

“Tell me, Bilbo, how did you meet this nice young man?” Gorbadoc asked through a stuffy nose. The Buckland Master was known to have bad allergies and usually his nose was irritated when flowers were near. Today his face was almost completely red and his nose almost glowing.

“Well…” Bilbo began, but Thorin cut him off.

“Bilbo here threw an apple at my head.”

The hobbits around them laughed, even the ones who thought they were being sneaky in eavesdropping on them.

“Bilbo,” Mirabella said horrified. “You didn’t.”

“I thought he was a thief and trespasser,” Bilbo said, shuffling his feet against the grass. “I had only meant to scare him off.”

“Had the opposite effect, really,” Thorin said, smiling at Bilbo with such fondness the hobbit blushed.

“Oh, how sweet,” Mirabella cooed. “You found yourself a nice young man there, Bilbo. You best keep a good eye on him or someone else will snatch him up.” Thorin laughed while Bilbo pouted. He didn’t understand how Thorin had charmed himself into his family’s graces so quickly.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid I’m now stuck with him and vice versa,” Bilbo sighed, teasing Thorin. The dwarf sulked mockingly, scooting closer on the bench towards the blond hobbit and slipping his hand into Bilbo’s.

It startled Bilbo, seeing how open Thorin was with his affections around the hobbits. Maybe it was because they didn’t know who he was and the dwarf felt confident in expressing his care for Bilbo? It seemed odd at first considering how Thorin had acted towards the hobbit among his own people, but Bilbo actually appreciated it. Hobbits in general had no stigma against little displays like hand-holding and quick kisses between two people courting. It would have actually appeared abnormal to the others if they weren’t so demonstrative.   

“Are you saying you don’t enjoy my company? I do try so hard to please you.”

“Bilbo,” Primula leaned forward and poked the hobbit’s shoulder. “Are you leading this poor fellow on? He seems so nice and friendly, and such a sharp dresser too. Why, I think that’s the most handsomest scarf I’ve ever seen!”

“Thank you, lovely lass,” Thorin said, giving Bilbo a quick smirk before he adopted a rejected expression. “I’m afraid I wasn’t dressed properly for the wedding, and Bilbo was kind enough to let me borrow this stunning scarf so I would look appropriate. I must say, whom ever did this stitching must have nimble fingers, I’ve never seen such beautiful work before.”

Primula blushed, sitting back in her seat and not mentioning a word about the scarf, much to Bilbo’s relief. Mirabella shared a quick glance with her husband, both smiling gleefully at each other. It appeared all of Bilbo’s worries that his family might instantly dislike Thorin were unfounded. They seemed to have taken to him quite quickly actually, which was a surprise because many were still standoffish towards Ginnar, months after his marriage to Reginard.

“Stop flirting with my family,” Bilbo whispered, glaring playfully at Thorin. The dwarf scoffed, squeezing the hobbit’s hand in his as if to remind Bilbo the reason for his being so charismatic towards the other hobbits.

Before Thorin could further seduce himself into the rest of the hobbits’ hearts, a murmur went through the crowd as things started to get ready. The Marriage Officiate was taking his place at the front of the aisle under the archway, the orchestra was testing their instruments, and Lobelia’s grandsire hurried down the aisle on his walker to take his place in the front pew.

“Is is about to start?” Thorin whispered, watching the proceedings curiously. Everything seemed to fascinate him, from the decorations, the band, and even the set up of family members and flower girls.

Bilbo hushed him, leaning towards the dwarf so his voice wouldn’t carry. It would be his luck that someone would tattle to Lobelia that he’d been talking during the ceremony and he’d receive a public scolding for it. “Yes, now be quiet. I want to be able to hear what’s said.”

When the music started up, everyone turned towards the end of the aisle and watched breathlessly as Lobelia’s mother and Otho proceeded down the aisle. The groom was dressed in a handsome black ensemble with a cream waistcoat and pink boutonnière, his cheeks flushed with happiness and glowing with pride. The soft tunes of the violin waxed a lovely melody as the groomsmen and bridesmaids followed, taking up their positions around the altar. The bridesmaid’s rose-pink colored dresses fluttering gently in the wind. Bilbo was surprised by how elegant it all looked and reflected much praise should be given to Lobelia for all her hard work.   

Then the wedding march began. The sound of the orchestra picked up as little Ivy Bracegirdle marched down the aisle throwing petals. The young child had a particular mulish expression, nose scrunched up and pouting as she tossed flowers with a vicious air about her. In her poufy dress with a large bow atop her head she didn’t look as menacing as she could have been as she stomped towards Lobelia’s bridesmaid with a final flounce. Once at the front of the altar, the flower girl crossed her arms and glared at the end of the aisle.

Everyone turned at once as Lobelia and her father move smoothly down the walkway, almost like they were skating on ice. In her beautiful cream and pink dress, with her hair done up and flower wreath on her head, smiling joyfully through her veil as her eyes misted over, Lobelia was an epitome of a blushing bride. Otho saw her and appeared to puff up even more, his cheeks ruddy as he too started to cry. Once to the pew, Lobelia’s father Blanco handed the lass off to Otho, the two then kneeling at the altar.

The music quieted down, allowing for the Marriage Officiate to talk. Bilbo listened with half an ear as the old hobbit reminisced about his memories of the two hobbits, about their rambunctious formative years growing up together, and telling the story of when the two came to ask him to perform his duties for them and how in love they appeared. It was all rather sweet, but instead of watching the ceremony Bilbo was watching Thorin.

He couldn’t help but think of what people would say about Thorin and his engagement. Of course it was rather quick considering, but that didn’t mean they were any less in love than others who’d known each other for years. Sometimes it didn’t take much but a glance to fall in love, to be captivated by someone.

Bilbo imagined what Thorin would look like dressed up for his own wedding. If the outfit he showed up to Bag End was anything to go by, Bilbo wouldn’t be surprised if the dwarf wore the most ostentatious outfit ever made. He could envisage the dwarf would wear his crown, as expected as King, and goodness, those diamond shoes were sort of growing on Bilbo. Though the hobbit would never say anything, he actually liked the blue and silver coloration that Thorin usually wore, it brought out the blue in his eyes. As Bilbo imagined what Thorin would look like, he further guessed what the whole ceremony would be like. If there was less flowers and more jewels, gold and silver hung from the ceiling instead of ribbons and bows? Would there be a crowd of diplomats and dignitaries instead of family in the front pew, watching as Thorin and Bilbo took their vows and pledge their lives to each other? By Thorin’s current spellbound expression, a dwarf wedding probably wasn’t much like a hobbit wedding, and Bilbo wondered what it would entail. 

As Thorin watched mystified by the events, wide eyed and smiling at certain anecdotes from the Officiate, Bilbo continued to gaze at Thorin. Just watching Thorin’s expressions and admiring the sharp, attractive features of the dwarf he was in love with. Thorin smothered a laugh when the old hobbit told the story of Otho climbing the cedar tree to retrieve Lobelia’s bonnet and Thorin even rubbed at his eyes when the tale of their public proposal came about. Bilbo could feel his own breath catch in his throat, heart beating wildly as the dwarf’s gentle smile and soft eyes turned towards him.

Bilbo bit his lips, looking up at Thorin with watering eyes. He held the dwarf’s gaze, hand trembling in Thorin’s as they shared a smile. Not caring that it would be appropriate, Bilbo pulled Thorin’s hand towards him and kissed the dwarf’s knuckles. Hoping Thorin understood the sentiment, that their own memories together were greatly cherished and he couldn’t wait for their own precious moment of matrimony.

After a moment of silent staring, both Bilbo and Thorin turned back just as the two hobbits were about to exchange rings. It seemed that they had missed out on most of the vows, emanating from the tears falling down the cheeks of the hobbits around them. Mirabella was dabbing at her makeup and Dinodas behind them was sobbing into his hands.

“--Love freely given has no giver and no receiver - for each is the giver and each is the receiver. May these tokens remind you always of the vows you have taken here today,” the old hobbit finished his speech.

Then the Officiate turned to the bridegroom. “Otho Baggins, have you a token for your love Lobelia Bracegirdle?”

“I do,” the hobbit stuttered, turning red under the attention as he took the simple gold ring with a ruby on top from his groomsman. He fumbled with it for a moment and the audience chuckled, Otho swore then looked aghast at the Officiate.

“Repeat after me,” the hobbit then said with a genial smile, “This ring, a gift for you, symbolizes my desire that you be my wife from this day forward.”

Otho licked his lips and swallowed loudly as he looked at his bride, “This ring, a gift for you, symbolizes my desire that you be my wife from this day forward.”

Lobelia’s mother Primrose made a loud wailing nose, blowing her nose into her handkerchief. The bride choked, a single tear slipping down her cheek as Otho slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand.  

The Officiate turned towards the bride. “Now Lobelia Bracegirdle, have you a token for your love Otho Baggins?”       

“I do,” Lobelia whispered, her voice so soft it was barely heard. It was so unlike the normally bold hobbit lass that it surprised Bilbo. He would have thought that Lobelia would be like her usual loud self in such an event, but she was strangely subdued. The bridesmaid handed over a simple gold band to the bride, who held it aloft before Otho’s fingers.

“Repeat after me,” the Officiate said again, “This ring, a gift for you, symbolizes my desire that you be my husband from this day forward.”

“This ring, a gift for you, symbolizes my desire that you be my h-husband from this day forward,” Lobelia said, slipping the ring onto Otho’s finger.

The Officiate set a hand over the two newlyweds, “Let these rings serve not as locks binding you together, but as keys, unlocking the secrets of your hearts for each other to know, and thus bringing you closer together forever. You are now wed, Mr. and Mrs. Sackville-Baggins!”

A cheer rose up from the crowd as the two newlyweds kissed. They all hopped to their feet as Lobelia and Otho walked hand in hand down the aisle, the newlyweds’ eyes only for each other as their family and friends applauded and shouted in merriment.  The bridesmaids and ushers followed them, then the family members, until all that were left were the guests. Afterwards they were allowed some time for the caterers to prepare as they all lined up to congratulate the bride and groom.

Thorin was still holding onto Bilbo’s hand, allowing the hobbit to pull him where to go with little fuss. The  dwarf watched the others around him, nodding politely to a few hobbits that looked at him and even smiling at a few children running past. “That was a very nice ceremony. Is the offering of tokens a familiar hobbit practice?”

“Yes, usually, if one can afford it.” Bilbo rubbed at his cheeks, feeling a bit flushed from all the emotions he was experiencing. He had almost cried. Lobelia and Otho were his friends, and he strangely felt abandoned by their union. Bilbo was of course happy for them, but also sad. Though he’d never begrudge them their happiness, it was like a bit like their childhood friendship that had lasted so long and through such hard times was coming to an end. As husband and wife they would depend more on each other than any friends they might deem to call on for company.

“Are rings the standard token?” Thorin asked, jerking Bilbo back from his sad thoughts.

Turning towards the dwarf, Bilbo settled in line behind the Grubb’s large family, pulling Thorin by the hand over to stand with him. “I suppose. Why so curious?”

“Should I not be?” Thorin raised an eyebrow. “You are a hobbit and I do plan to marry you one day.”

Lavender Grubb, who was leaning on her cane and eavesdropping on their conversation, turned slowly around to look at them. She studied Thorin with a harsh gaze, sighing when she saw his shoes. Thorin blushed, narrowing his eyes and scowling at the old woman for the perceived affront. Bilbo had to hide a laugh behind his palm, not wanting to explain to the dwarf that Mrs. Grubb was half-blind and wasn’t necessarily glaring at Thorin so much as trying to get a good look at him under the full light of the sun. 

“We’ll talk about it later, Thorin,” Bilbo patted the dwarf on the shoulder. “Let’s just enjoy our time here.”

“Fine,” Thorin grumbled.

By the time it was their turn to congratulate the happy couple, Thorin was in a better mood. He smiled pleasantly at Otho, shared a quick introduction and shook hands with the bridegroom. It wasn’t until the dwarf greeted Lobelia that anything of significance happened.

“May Mahal bless you and your kin, and your halls be prosperous and your beard…” Thorin paused, perhaps remembering that hobbit women, or hobbits in general, didn’t have beards. “Sorry, many blessings upon you, my lady,” Thorin finished quickly, lifting Lobelia’s hand up to kiss the back of it.

Lobelia gaped, mouth working like she was trying to say something but unable to find the words. Either use to this sort of reaction or something else, Thorin didn’t seem to take much mind to the fact that he’d somehow muted the great Lobelia Bracegirdle, now Sackville-Baggins. Many hobbits would pay good coin to know the trick of it, Bilbo included.

“B-Bilbo,” Lobelia whispered loudly, reaching out with a blind hand and snagging the other hobbit by his jacket lapels. “Wh-why does your date look exactly like the d-dwarf King?”

Thorin adopted a sudden shrewd expression, looking from Lobelia to Bilbo.

“Um,” Bilbo breathed, panicked. Fortunately it didn’t look like the others around them were paying much attention, and Otho was already greeting the next family come to speak to them. “T-this is Thorin Oakenshield, Lobelia. My dwarf suitor, the one I told you about.”

Lobelia yanked him forward until they were nose to nose. She looked wild-eyed and seethed, “You are being courted by the _King_?”

Bilbo squeaked.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Otho asked, curious as to why the line was being held up. He at least had no knowledge of who Thorin really was, he’d just been happy to meet the dwarf that made Bilbo so happy. 

“I saw him yesterday at the welcoming ceremony for the elves,” the bride hissed, ignoring the concerned looks Thorin and Otho were giving the two of them. “I know who he is. Bilbo Baggins, I’m going to beat and tar you, and roll you down the hill into the river once I get the chance. How could you do this to me?”

“I – didn’t – ”

“Come on Lobelia, let Bilbo pass,” Otho said calmly, putting a hand on his wife’s wrists until she let go of the other hobbit’s jacket. “We can all talk later. Mister Burrows would like to congratulate us also.”

Lobelia released Bilbo reluctantly, eyeing them like a hungry hawk even as they walked away. Thorin pulled Bilbo close, tucking him against his chest until all the hobbit could do was close his eyes and breathe in the scent of Thorin-- something like spice and pipe-weed. Protected in his dwarf’s arms and hidden from the others, Bilbo felt his heart drop towards his stomach.

“What was that about?” Thorin inquired once they were far enough away that the hobbit lass could no longer glare at them. While Bilbo was having a crisis, some of the other guests were loading food upon their plates and finding places among the picnic tables to sit and eat. Thorin saw an opportunity and led them to a table near the edge of the dance floor and far from Lobelia and most of the party guests.

“She knows,” Bilbo gasped, clutching tight to Thorin like a child to his favorite toy. It was almost like he was afraid to lose him, like Thorin would disappear if he looked away for even a moment. Bilbo was alarmed that someone other than him and Olo knew who Thorin really was, and Bilbo tried not to hyperventilate. He hadn’t thought of the welcoming ceremony, where Thorin would have greeted the Kings and Master for coming to Erebor in front of everybody who’d come to watch. He foolishly hadn’t thought that some of the others might have stayed to fight the crowds and get a glimpse of the royal nobles. That could mean that more than just Lobelia knew who Thorin was!

“Bilbo,” Thorin chuckled. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin sighed, tugging Bilbo’s hands off him gently and urging the hobbit to turn towards him, holding Bilbo’s face in his palms. “You are making this into a bigger deal than it is. Some of your people will know who I am. They have trade agreements and contracts with the Mountain, they might have seen me in passing. It would be foolish to assume _no one_ in the Shire knows who I am.”

“B-but,” Bilbo stuttered, shaking his head out of Thorin’s grip and helping himself to the glass of honey mead set up on the table. His hands trembled and he felt irrational for being so distressed while Thorin appeared so calm. “I thought you were going incognito? That you didn’t want anyone knowing who you are here?”

Thorin scratched at his jaw, looking out with a tired gaze at the crowd of hobbits helping themselves to the feast. “I will say it is comforting not to always be recognized, but even if they don’t know me, I should still act as my station dictates. They all _will know_ soon enough, and I’d rather they not think I was being deceptive on purpose. See I tried tricking a hobbit once about my identity, it didn’t turn out quite like I had planned.”

“Stop teasing me,” Bilbo pouted, soothed when Thorin’s started rubbing his back with a large, warm hand. “I just wanted you to have fun.”

“I am having fun,” Thorin said, smiling gently at the hobbit. “I am with you, aren’t I.”

“Thorin, you are sweet,” Bilbo said, laying his head against the dwarf’s shoulder. The comment caused the dwarf to laugh and he reached over and tugged on Bilbo’s braid. He seemed unconcerned by what had happened and it broke Bilbo’s heart that the dwarf never expected to get through the day without someone knowing he was really King of Erebor.    

The truth was that Bilbo _had_ wanted Thorin’s real identity to be a mystery. Everyone was always talking about how unique and special it was that Bilbo hadn’t known who Thorin was, that the King had enjoyed the anonymity of being just himself for once. Bilbo had wanted him to experience that again, to be around a group of people and just be free from the obligations of his station. For Thorin to enjoy himself, dance and be merry without worrying about what others would say about him if they knew who he was.

Now, it seemed that wouldn’t happen. If by some chance Lobelia kept quiet, Thorin knew that others knew and he would stiffen up and act like he did around the dwarves. Bilbo felt simple headed. He should have known that somehow the day would be ruined. He’d only wanted one whole day with Thorin where things were peaceful and his family could meet the dwarf he’d fallen in love with. That Bilbo’s family would judge Thorin by his wonderful character and not his nobility, and to meet the same dwarf he’d first met all those weeks ago. 

Thorin tucked a loose curl behind an ear. “Do you want me to get us something to eat? I can hear your stomach growling.”

Bilbo nodded, sitting up straight so Thorin could get to his feet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so depressed. I’m just – I just got so upset.”

Thorin shrugged. “I told you, it‘s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Bilbo stated, getting to his feet after Thorin. “But we’ll deal with it.” A new strength came over him. So what if Lobelia gossiped to everyone who Thorin was. Bilbo would hold his head up proudly and declare his love for his dwarf. He would prove to his family that Thorin was a perfectly appropriate suitor for him, King or not. Surely his family wouldn’t deny him his chance for happiness? They’d see how much he meant to Thorin in return, how much the dwarf was willing to sacrifice to be with him, even if it was just little things like missing a day of heading the games and wearing ribbons. And as for Lobelia, if anything, she should be proud the King of Erebor was attending her wedding. See if Lily Brown could say the same thing!

“Okay?” Thorin raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

Bilbo helped Thorin load his plate full of food, hungry now that he’d made his decision on how to deal with the situation. Lobelia and Otho hadn’t skimped on the caterers. There was sugared almonds, honey-mustard eggs, puff pastry cheese straws, scones with spiced jelly, pickled pears, cherry hearts, chocolates, and sugar paste. Everything sweet and tasty set out that one could imagine, and that wasn’t even counting the main courses. For that there were the usual salads and vegetables, which meant there was every type of recipe for potatoes ever made set out on the table, and there was also roast duck, honeybaked ham, cooked beef brisket, smoked fish, and a large selection of sausages. Even Thorin looked amazed by the variety of food to choose from, impressed by the amount of meat to pick from and piling his plate with a large helping of a bit of everything.

“Don’t eat too much,” Bilbo warned as he sat back down at their deserted picnic table. “There will be dancing later.”

“Dancing?” Thorin paused, sausage link halfway towards his mouth.

“Oh, I didn’t think! Do you know any hobbit dances?”

Thorin set down his fork heavily. “Not really. Will you show me? Is it appropriate for us to dance when we are not fully engaged?”

“Of course it is!” Bilbo smiled. He didn’t mind showing Thorin how to dance, if anything it would be a good excuse to keep the dwarf to himself all day and well into the evening. Though Thorin might had to abandon his shoes for the dancing, because Bilbo didn’t know how his bare feet would hold up if Thorin constantly stepped on them.

Halfway through their meal, someone set a tray of food down loudly across from them. Startling both Bilbo and Thorin as the hobbit had been trying to wheedle the dwarf into trying some roasted asparagus.

“Your majesty,” Ginnar muttered, bowing his head in Thorin’s direction and almost making Bilbo choke on his glass of mead. Reginard held onto his husband’s arm, looking bewildered from Thorin to Bilbo, shuffling his feet and looking unsure of his welcome. “Mister Baggins.”

“Reg!” Bilbo called out, smiling and gesturing them to sit. It might be possible he’d had a bit too much to drink during their meal. “I’m happy to see you. I hope you and Ginnar are having a lovely time?”

“W-we are, thank you for asking,” Reginard stuttered, looking anxiously at the dwarf King. Thorin though was watching Ginnar suspiciously, much to the other dwarf’s indignation.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and elbowed Thorin. “Thorin, this is my cousin Reginard Took and his husband Ginnar.”

“Please to meet you,” Reginard squeaked. Thorin smiled gently at him and it seemed to appease the tense atmosphere a little.       

Turning towards the hobbit’s husband, Thorin started speaking in harsh Khuzdul, worrying Bilbo for a moment that he was being vulgar towards Ginnar. Only the other dwarf started to laugh, leaning back and howling with mirth from whatever Thorin had just said.

“Aye, it’s a hobbit thing, your Majesty,” Ginnar snorted, showing off his own tiny pink bows tied to the end of his beard. Thorin nodded in understanding, patting at his scarf with an indignant expression.

“Gin-dear,” Reginard sighed, looking towards the sky like he was praying for patience. “I told you it was either ribbons or flowers. You chose ribbons.”

Thorin turned to glare at Bilbo. “How come I didn’t get that choice?”

“Don’t you start, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo growled, “I didn’t have time to pick flowers for your hair.”

Ginnar leaned forward, waving his cutting knife in the air. “Your Majesty, let me tell you about this one time--”

“Call me Thorin, we are trying to be inconspicuous,” Thorin said, giving the impression of being amused by the other dwarf’s enthusiasm to gossip about Reginard and the hobbits with the King.

Ginnar blushed, “Right, well, understandable, sir. Anyways, as I was saying, this one time for Reg’s great aunt’s birthday party I had to wear all yellow because…”

Bilbo stopped listening, allowing the dwarves their amusement as he turned his attention towards Reginard. “How have you been?”

“Me?” Reginard blinked, looking stunned. “I’m fine. What about you? I haven’t heard from you since your visit. Is… is he the one you were talking about that time?”

Blushing, Bilbo nodded. “Yes. Sorry I never said anything about who he was. I just didn’t want to cause a fuss.”

“Eru! And what a fuss it would have caused, too!” Reginard said, laughing to himself. “To think, my little cousin, courted by the King. Goodness me, I don’t think I would have believed you if you had said anything. It’s very… strange, seeing him here among us simple folk.”

Bilbo cocked his head to the side, “Why’s that?”

Reginard pointed discreetly with his fork and whispered, “He’s _the King_. Last I saw him he was sitting on his throne and yelling out orders. Though suddenly his unusual moods make sense now, knowing you were somehow involved. Was it because of you he was sending dwarves to pick flowers in the hills?”

“Yes,” Bilbo sighed. He felt bad for not visiting his cousin like he said he would, especially because if there was any hobbit who might have an inkling of knowledge about what he was going through it would be Reginard. Ginnar might not be a King, but he was a dwarf, and subtracting all the confusion that came with being courted by a royal noble, there was still plenty of misunderstandings between their cultures to cause uncertainty to both Bilbo and Thorin.  

“Ha!” Reginard laughed. “We heard rumors it was a hobbit, but we thought it was some servant working in the scullery and there was one rumor that you were a chimneysweep. Should have known when they said you had hair of pure gold and eyes like sapphires.”

Bilbo buried his head in his hands and groaned. He’d forgotten about those wild rumors spreading through the kingdom about the King’s intended, of course back then he’d been blissfully ignorant of who Thorin really was.  “Please, let’s not talk about it,” Bilbo moaned.

“Talk about what?” Ginnar asked, putting his arm back around Reginard and leaning against him. It appeared the dwarves got distracted by the very hobbits they were most likely gossiping about. Bilbo could already imagine them talking and bemoaning their fates wedded and engaged to fussy hobbits while said hobbits weren’t around.   

Reg used a napkin and cleaned off his husband’s mustache, getting the bits of celery and cheese out the dwarf had dribbled while eating. “We’re talking about the rumors going around about Bilbo.”

“What rumors?” Thorin frowned.

Ginnar winced, shooting his King an apologetic smile. “Nothing much I assure you, just some silly speculations about the type of person he is.”

“Oh?” Thorin crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

“Well,” Reginard spoke up, seeing how Ginnar went quiet and Thorin was waiting for an answer. “They said he’s like a diamond in the rough. A hidden beauty, veiled by dirt and dust that no one noticed until it was too late, but under all that filth is a splendor more lovely than the Arkenstone.”

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo squeaked.

Thorin huffed, “They were partially right.”

“Thorin!” Bilbo turned towards the dwarf and swatted at him.

“What?” Thorin yelped. “I was complimenting you. Of course you aren’t dirty or dusty, but you are always lovely in my eyes.”

“Oh.”

“Not my fault if others didn’t notice until you were already spoken for,” Thorin grumbled. “If anybody bothers you, tell me. I’ll handle it.”

Bilbo wondered how exactly Thorin would ‘handle’ it. Considering the extremes he usually went through, Bilbo couldn’t even guess. But it might would be better for all that if there were any problems, the hobbit would keep it it to himself. 

When Bilbo turned back to the others, Reginard was smiling softly at them. Even Ginnar had a considerate expression about him, holding his husband tightly against him with a gentle hand. They all ate for a while, enjoying the meal and small talk among each other. Thorin and Ginnar talked about the kingdom, Ginnar’s work as a guard, and relations with Dale, while Bilbo caught Reginard up on the recent scandals in the Shire. It was turning into such a pleasant afternoon that Bilbo invited both Reg and Ginnar over for supper later in the week to catch up on things. Thorin of course was invited also and as long as there weren’t any scheduling conflicts the dwarf promised to be there. Bilbo asked him to invite the rest of the company as well so they could make it into a large party and Ginnar perked up at the talk of a proper dwarf celebration. He didn’t mind that he’d be around the King and his nephews. Caught in their own little world of hobbit-dwarf relations they didn’t even notice the rest of the party going on around them until toasts were called out.

Otho’s groomsman, Dudo Baggins, got to his feet and called for silence.

“I’d like to propose a toast to the bride and groom.” Dudo raised his glass of honeymead. “May today be the beginning of a wonderful new and long-lasting chapter in their lives, and may they always love, honor, and cherish each other, just as they do today.”

The hobbits all clapped as Dudo sat and Otho stood, the groom also raising his glass. Otho appeared to steel himself, running a hand through his frazzled hair. “R-right, well. Thank you for all coming. Dudo, thank you for that toast, it was very charming. Now, I’d like to express gratitude to my lovely bride Lobelia, for consenting to marry me. Lobelia, I love you. I love you for your beauty, your intelligence, your kindness… and for the way you always know how to make me feel so special. So on top of all the other vows I’ve made today, I also vow to always appreciate how lucky I am to have someone who makes me feel the way you do and to continue to try as hard as I can to make you feel as special as you make me feel, forever and ever.”

Lobelia wiped away tears, pulling Otho down by his coat pockets and kissing him soundly on the mouth. The crowd cheered, clicking their glasses with their forks and hollering in joy. The bride only released her groom when it seemed Otho had run out of air, arms flailing until Lobelia pushed him back.

“Okay, my turn,” Lobelia said, fixing her dress as she stood up. “I would also like to express my gratitude for everyone coming and the gifts. I would also like to tell Otho, my new husband, a few things. Otho, you have been my best friend, mentor, playmate, confidant, and my greatest challenge. But most importantly, you are the love of my life and you make me happier than I could have ever imagine and more loved than I ever thought possible. You have made me a better person, as our love for one another is reflected in the way I live my life. So I am truly blessed to be a part of your life, which as of today becomes our life together.”

Bilbo wiped at his tears as everyone clapped. The hobbit felt heartsick and content at the same time. He really was happy for Lobelia and Otho, but still that distressing feeling persisted. Pasting on a happy smile, Bilbo raised his glass in toast and drank the rest of the honeymead in his glass.

Afterward the cake was brought out, a large vanilla cake with pink and yellow sugar flowers and cream fondant. Everyone was awed by how big it was, almost three tiers high. The happy couple was given a silver cake knife and server by Lobelia’s father, and together they cut the first slice.

“What are they doing?” Thorin asked. Being a head taller he could see over everyone else towards the front table where Lobelia and Otho were smashing cake into each other’s faces. “Well… that’s unusual. Are they upset with each other already?”

“Hobbit tradition,” Ginnar whispered loudly towards Thorin. “I didn’t understand it either. Best to just nod and go along with it when it’s your own turn.”

“Oh hush,” Reginard scolded, glaring at his husband. “Like you didn’t knock me over when you shoved that carrot cake up my nose. I still haven’t forgiven you for that.”

“Your father told me to!” The dwarf hollered, flailing his arms. “Said it wouldn’t be a proper marriage if I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t be proper until you smothered me with cake?”

Ginnar paused, looking trapped. “Well… yes.”

The two started bickering much to Bilbo’s amusement. Reginard huffed, arguing about how his dress clothes had been forever ruined and his family still regaled him with taunting tales of his fainting. Ginnar tried to sooth the flustered hobbit, rubbing his shoulders and promising never to bring the subject up again. Reginard wasn’t appeased until Ginnar put himself on laundry duty for the next week and promised a foot-rub later. Then the dwarf said something in Khuzdul that had Thorin blushing to the tips of his ears and eyeing Bilbo with a speculative gleam.

“Nu-uh,” Bilbo wagged a finger at Thorin. “Whatever he said, I’m not up for it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thorin said, accepting his piece of cake from one of the servers with a thanks.

Ginnar held a fork full of cake towards Reginard. “Here my pearl, let me try again proper this time.”

Reginard crossed his arms and glared. “If you smash that in my face you will be sleeping on the couch for the next _month_.”

“Promise I won’t,” Ginnar said, smiling manically.

Bilbo watched awkwardly as the dwarf lovingly fed his hobbit husband, holding a hand out to catch anything that dropped and wiping a bit of cream from Reg’s bottom lip with his thumb. Bilbo blushed as the two affectionately doted on each other, Reginard hiding a smile behind his hand as he chewed and Ginnar looked rather proud of himself, eating the rest of his own cake. Bilbo looked towards Thorin and saw his dwarf share an approving nod with Ginnar.

“U-um, how’s the cake?” Bilbo asked, quickly stuffing a forkful of cake into his mouth.

“Good,” Thorin said, eating a bit more delicately than the hobbit.

Everyone ate their slices as the music started up. It appeared the dancing bit was beginning and while there was still plenty of food to eat some of the hobbits had wandered towards the dance floor. It was mostly slow music for now, but it would pick up when the rest of the crowd would come cobbling onto the dance floor. With more alcohol in their systems as the day wore on, things would be rowdy enough later for everyone to have fun so it was best to keep things slow until the little ones wore out. Otherwise anything under knee height might be trodden on. 

“Uh oh,” Reginard warned, pointing behind Bilbo.

Bilbo turned around and saw the full pink and cream fury sweeping down on him in the form of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

  

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding based mostly on what I could find of Victorian ceremonies and a mix of modern ones, though I am unsure if Middle-Earth even has priests so I changed them to marriage officiates instead. I pulled the toast and vows off sample sites online. I’m not that creative enough to make up my own.  
> Since my super secret tumblr has been discovered, might as well let the rest of you know its: http://ferretbaby86.tumblr.com/  
> I sometimes post spoilers or pictures of things that give me ideas there. I warn that the next week though might be Disney stuff. And if I can get a picture of my older brother drunk in a Norway viking hat I’m posting that for prosperities sake. Off to Disneyworld! Hugs to all yall!


	23. Quick Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is dancing and drinking and more.

****

 

Bilbo gulped loudly as Lobelia descended on him with a furious growl. He fumbled his glass of mead, pushing it into Thorin’s hand and asking the dwarf to refill it for him. He’d rather the dwarf not be here to see what was about to happen. Eru only knew what rude behavior Lobelia would show in front of the King of Erebor and he’d rather have Thorin not think all the hobbits would have the same reaction to knowing who he really was.

“But--”

“Please,” Bilbo begged. 

Brows furrowed, Thorin got to his feet and meandered away just as Lobelia grabbed the hobbit. Bilbo froze up as the bride’s hands squeezed tightly on his shoulder, moving slowly up until they felt like manacles around his neck. Reginard looked pale, staring in horror at Bilbo and Lobelia. Ginnar sipped at his cup of mead and looked apathetic towards the fact that Bilbo was about to be murdered right in front of him.

“Mister Baggins,” Lobelia purred. “Just the gentlehobbit I was looking for.”

Bilbo looked slowly up, “H-hello Lobelia. Beautiful ceremony…”

The hobbit lass narrowed her eyes at him. “Really, you think so?”

Feeling like it was best to get the conversation over with before she exploded, Bilbo cut to the chase. “Yes. Please, have a seat. You must be tired and we need to talk.”

“So kind of you to offer me a seat at my own wedding,” Lobelia said sweetly, releasing Bilbo and holding her skirts as she sat in Thorin’s vacant seat. “Sort of like how you invited the King of Erebor along as your guest without telling me.”

“About that…”

Lobelia leaned forward, probably not so much because she was curious to hear his excuse but so she could strangle him if he said something she didn’t like.

Bilbo glanced towards Thorin, who was halfway back towards the table with four cups of wine, only Lavender Grubb and her bridge club had waylaid him and formed a circle around the frowning dwarf. They looked to be interrogating him by the looks of it, and Old Mrs. Cotton was pinching the loose sleeves of Thorin’s shirt between her finger and eyeing the fabric critically from over her glasses. The group of them was a shrewd bunch, old matrons from the majority of the clans whose judgment went a long way in the Shire. They had a propensity to inspect new guests so their good opinion of Bilbo’s companion would mean a lot to him. If Thorin could win their approval on his own, he would be that much closer to getting everyone else’s approval. 

At least they were a harmless bunch, Bilbo thought. He could leave Thorin in their capable hands for a moment while he took care of Lobelia. 

“Well?” Lobelia asked, trying to flutter her eyelashes sweetly. Except her hard smile belied how displeased she really was and Bilbo felt something Tookish rise up inside him with a want to defend himself and Thorin. There was no shame about them being in love with each other and he would not take anyone bad-mouthing their decision to be together, least of all Lobelia.  

“Yes, right.” Bilbo cleared his throat and turned to look the hobbit lass right in the eyes. “I didn’t lie or anything. His name is Thorin Oakenshield, and you are correct that he is King under the Mountain. You allowed me to bring a guest, and he is _my_ guest. There were no stipulations made about the type of dwarf I could bring and it would be rather insulting to ask him to leave now.”  

Lobelia’s eyes narrowed. “You said the other day that the _guest_ you were bringing is the dwarf courting you. Are you telling me that you are currently being courted by the King?”

Reginard squeaked and Ginnar stuffed a handful of cheese into his husband’s mouth. They were both watching Bilbo and Lobelia defiantly stare at each other with utter fascination. 

Ignoring the other two, Bilbo glared at Lobelia and put his hands on his hips, ready to scold her. “Yes I am. You have something to say to that?”

Lobelia’s jaw dropped. “I – I don’t–  are you saying – how can….. goodness me, _Bilbo_!”

Bilbo scrunched up his nose and frowned. “What? He’s a perfectly reasonable dwarf and I quite like him whether he’s a King or not. Your opinion of the matter means little to me in regards to my feelings for Thorin and if you have a problem with him than this will be the last moment of goodwill we have towards each other. Choose your next words wisely, Lobelia, for I am Belladonna’s son, and you do not want me as your enemy.”

The hobbit lass flushed bright red and her mouth snapped close with a pop. She looked wildly around, as if looking to see if anybody else was eavesdropping on them or maybe even for someone to back her up. “I didn’t… I’m not, ugh! Bilbo, this isn’t about if he’s suitable or not.”

“Then what is this about? You have no right to be angry with me for bringing him.”

Puckering her lips like she tasted something sour, Lobelia beckoned him closer. With trepidation, Bilbo leaned forward until she could whisper in his ear.

“I don’t have a proper gift to give a _King_. I got him a small satchel of garden seeds like I did everybody else I didn’t know personally that was invited. Do you see the problem now?”

“Not really,” Bilbo said, pulling back in confusion. He’d been expecting something else than Lobelia being upset about presents. The fiery temper growing in his chest ready to defend himself and Thorin fizzled down to a tiny spark. “He’s not expecting to be gifted with gold or jewels or anything. In fact I rather think he’ll be surprised to get a gift at all. He doesn’t much understand hobbit traditions and gift giving.”

Lobelia looked uncertain. “Really?”

Bilbo pointed at the pony, that was currently being fawned over by a couple of young lasses who’d taken to braiding its mane and giggling over how cute the pony was. “You have him to thank for that. He sort of thought he was supposed to give you a gift instead.”   

“Oh dear me!” Lobelia gasped, putting a hand to her chest. “That’s from him. I thought it might be from you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bilbo shook his head. “No, he’s a silly dwarf. I got you the copper pot, which I thought would be extravagant enough, but apparently I am to be outdone by my own suitor. Don’t make a fuss about it to him, otherwise you might end up with something even more audacious than a pony. We’re saying it’s from both of us to appease his sensibilities.”

Lobelia was tapping at her chin with one finger and eyeing the gift table with a calculated expression, worrying Bilbo he might have given the other hobbit an idea. He worried his lips, watching her and sharing a horrified look with Reginard. Ginnar looked rather amused by everything, truth be told. Things were tense for a moment. Bilbo was worried she’d still find a problem with them being there and ask them to leave. He hadn’t imagined in his wildest dreams that bringing the dwarf King would cause a problem and he’d been rather hoping Thorin’s true status would go unnoticed the whole day. 

Then Thorin finally showed up and set the glasses of wine onto the middle of the table, causing Lobelia to jump and squeak in embarrassment. As one, they all turned to stare at the towering dwarf.

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Sorry about that, got caught up chatting with some lovely ladies.”

Bilbo couldn’t help the large smile that broke across his face at his dwarf’s casual demeanor. Something tight alleviated inside him and his shoulders relaxed. He could only hope that Thorin’s calm behavior meant things had gone okay between the bridge club and him. The old ladies could be an ornery lot if they took a disliking to someone. “Thorin! I had wondered where you’d gotten off to.”  

“Just reminiscing about the times past and the bountiful spring some eighty odd years ago,” Thorin explained no further and instead he took curious interest in Lobelia sitting with them. “Hello again, my lady. Your wedding has been most enjoyable so far and I am looking forward to the dancing. The honorable Mistress Bowman has informed me it’s traditional for all unmarried men to dance with the bride for good luck. I promise to try not to tread on your toes.”

“Y-yes, well… thank you,” the hobbit lass stuttered, fixing her dress and crossing her ankles. Bilbo hid a smile behind his glass, sipping at the red wine. If nothing else, Lobelia seemed unable to be bad-mannered to Thorin to his face, so that was good.

“What happened to the mead?” Ginnar grumbled, wiping his beard when a bit of wine dribbled down his chin and stained his shirt.

Thorin looked over at the other dwarf, “If you do not like it you can get your own drink next time.”   

Grumbling, Ginnar poured his left over wine into his husband’s cup and wandered off to get his own drink. Thorin snorted, putting his hands on his hips as he watched the other dwarf toddle away grumbling about snobbish lordlings. Reginard winced and then quietly apologized to Thorin about his husband’s behavior.

“Worry not, Mister Took, I am used to it from my own men. One more dwarf will not hurt.” Thorin smiled thinly at the hobbit, standing awkwardly over the table’s occupants. Even with Lobelia in his seat, he seemed disinclined to take Ginnar’s place and he looked ready to stand over Bilbo for the rest of the night if he had to, just to be near. 

Bilbo reached up and took the dwarf’s hand, pulling Thorin down to share a seat. “Sit, Thorin, tell me how you plan to dance when you do not know the steps.”

Lobelia got over her agitation and hunched forward to listen. Bilbo impolitely thought she could find better things to do at her own wedding than listen to his conversations with Thorin.

“Well,” here Thorin’s neck and ears started to turn pink, “Lady Grubb offered to teach me but Mistress Brandybuck cut in and said her daughter would be more suitable since she is light on her feet. I told them that you could show me, but they got upset and said we mustn’t dance until we perform the… little blue bird dance?”

“Two little bird dance,” Bilbo corrected, groaning silently. There was no way Thorin would be able to perform that without knowing the dance steps. Maybe Ginnar could be talked into showing Thorin?

Lobelia huffed, “Can he dance at all, Bilbo?” Ignoring the fact that Thorin was right there and likely to take insult to the questioning of his dancing skills. She continued on even with the rest of the table was frowning at her. “Just take him behind the tent and show him a few moves if you are so reluctant to loan him out. I’d rather not have my feet trodden on by…” She paused and looked bewildered at Thorin’s shoes. “…are those glass slippers?”

Bilbo stood quickly. “Right, good advice. Come, Thorin.”

Thorin refused to move, even when Bilbo pulled on his arm. “Why? I do not want to break the customs of your people. We shall have our first dance later, as tradition for those courting.”

Bilbo groaned and quickly downed his glass of wine and Thorin’s too, for good measure. Meddling old women. What had they told Thorin while he was away? It wouldn’t hurt anybody if their first dance wasn’t the traditional hobbit courting dance. Surely the other hobbits would understand the problem of Thorin not knowing the correct moves to perform it without his help. 

Ginnar hobbled back about that time with six goblets of ale, and sadly, Primula was not far behind him, carrying an extra two.

“I’m here to steal Mister Oakenshield from you cousin,” the lass said sweetly, eyeing the dwarf with an impish expression. Thorin, unaware of the Brandybuck mischievous nature, just smiled softly back at the lass and Bilbo felt something clench inside his chest. Primula turned pink at the dwarf’s pleased expression and said, “Mother has ordered me to show him the proper way to dance.”

“ _Proper_ ,” Bilbo huffed, scowling over towards the table of giggling matrons watching them. He rather regretted leaving Thorin in their company for even a minute now. Those old biddies were nothing but trouble. “He’s my guest, I should be showing him how to dance.”

Prim just smiled serenely, “No reason to be jealous, cousin. I’ll return him to you eventually.”

Ginnar and Reginard both laughed and then had to quickly look towards the sky when Bilbo turned his glare on them. Thorin, of all people, looked confused by Bilbo’s turn of mood.

“Fine,” Bilbo said, letting go of Thorin’s hand with a yank and leaving the dwarf’s hand hovering in midair for the hobbit lass to steal. Bilbo just glowered even more at the two of them. “I want him returned before the farandole dance. Don’t over exhaust him.”

Prim gave a wicked grin and a wink before she pulled at Thorin’s abandoned arm. “I’ll try not to, but I rather doubt a dwarf could keep up with a hobbit.” 

Taking it as an affront to his stamina, Thorin scoffed and followed the hobbit lass to the dance floor. He kept looking back towards the table with his heavy brows furrowed until Primula forced him to concentrate on his footing or risk tripping. Bilbo sat back down next to Lobelia with a heavy sigh. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be too angry,” Lobelia said after a quiet moment. “Not many hobbits can say they had the King of Erebor at _their_ wedding. Wait until Lily hears about this!”

“About that,” Bilbo remarked absentmindedly, trying to drag his eyes away from the dance floor and not near enough succeeding. “Can we please keep that quiet for now, at least for tonight? Thorin doesn’t want his presence to take away from your wedding.”

“Oh,” Lobelia sat back with a startled expression. “Yes, well, that’s reasonably courteous of you both. You’re absolutely right, wouldn’t want to distract everybody after all the trouble I went through planning this party.”   

Bilbo nodded, watching Primula giggle as Thorin tried to do the kicks to the sweet kate that the hobbit lass was teaching him and almost losing a shoe when he kicked too high. Drogo Baggins and his partner Jessamine Boffin were moving closer as if to join them, their dancing circling closer and closer as the music wore on, the hobbit lad with an intent expression on his face and Jessamine pouting crossly as they swung nearer to the pair.  

Reginard elbowed Bilbo and the hobbit blinked and looked away from the sight of the dancing dwarf, noticing that Lobelia had wandered off and was sitting with Otho now. She whispered something in his ear that had her new husband gurgling some inexplicable noise and turning a gobsmacked expression towards their table. Bilbo moaned to himself and turned back to watching the dance floor, ignoring his cousin’s increasingly bizarre looks he was shooting his way. 

Thorin was now swinging Primula around so hard her feet were almost leaving the floor completely. The lass giggled and clung to Thorin’s shoulder even more tighter than necessary.  

“You don’t need to be watching so intently,” the other hobbit whispered. “Better Prim than someone like Robin Goold. Then you really would have to watch them closely or she’d run off with your suitor like she did Rose Burrows’. Are they still talking about that around here?”

“Yes,” Bilbo nodded, his imagination swirling with the terrifying thought of Robin getting her hands on Thorin. If there was a more scandalous hobbit lass in town, it was that of the Goold’s daughter. She had a reputation of stealing suitors under the guise of testing their loyalty to her friends, ruining their relationship and reputation, and then after she bled their pocketbooks dry, she dumped them for the next one. Last Bilbo heard she was living in Dale working at a tea shop and hadn’t been back to the Shire in months since Laila Clayhanger chased her off with a dirty mop for tempting Fortinbras Took. Bilbo had a sudden dread that she’d reappear if she heard that he was being courted by the dwarf King of Erebor. 

He resolutely turned around and put his back towards the dance floor. No use getting green-eyed over little things when it could be a lot worse. Drogo had made his desire known for Primula and everybody knew he was just waiting for her to come of age before properly courting her. Thorin was perfectly safe under the hobbit lass’ direction. 

“Here, have another drink,” Ginnar grumbled, sliding over two tankards of ale. 

Bilbo put his hands around one of the wooden cups and stared into the bubbly liquid with a dazed expression. With the sun behind him making its descent caused the ale to glow like syrupy gold, reminding Bilbo of the sparkling shine of Thorin’s gold and silver crown. The thick bubbly froth at the brim gave a heady aroma to the drink. It was Odo Proudfoot’s batch no doubt, some of the best in the Shire and worth every drop Otho and Lobelia had most likely spent on it. Bilbo took four large gulps without breath.

“Actually,” Reginard took back one of the cups. “Maybe you should lay off some. You’ve already had some mead and wine, so you shouldn’t be mixing alcohol like that.”

Ginnar pushed the cup back. “There ain’t no harm in it. Might do the lad some good.”

Reginard pinched his husband’s arm. “Stop it! I’m looking out for my cousin, I don’t need you being contradictory.”

“Ouch!” The dwarf scooted away from the furious hobbit and cradled his arm like it had been broken. “Why do you always do that? You pulled my hair!”

“Your arm hair, you big baby!”

“All my hair is sensitive, you tyrant, even the hair on my arms. Have you forgotten I’m a dwarf?” Ginnar teasingly sulked, barely able to hold his toothy grin as his hobbit husband rolled his eyes and huffed in exasperation. They started bickering again, moving ever closer to each other as things escalated and Reg’s gesticulating got even wilder as Ginnar teased him. It appeared that the dwarf enjoyed riling his husband up from the look of it, and when one of his large hands settled on Reginard’s thighs and kept moving steadily upwards as things progressed, Bilbo had to look quickly away to not risk embarrassment. The other hobbit noticed the dwarf’s sly attempts and pinched Ginnar’s hand in retaliation, starting the whole argument over again.

 If it wasn’t for the loud music from the orchestra, Bilbo might have been worried they would draw the exasperated notice of those around them for the two’s yelling and fussing. Instead everybody else was either laughing and drinking or skipping around the dance floor with their partners. No one seemed concerned with the domestic happening at their table.

Bilbo eventually drank both tankards of ale without either noticing. He kept glancing furtively towards the dancing. Bilbo caught Thorin laughing and weaving his way through the hobbits in a line dance. The dwarf looked so happy and Bilbo felt childish for being so sour about the whole situation. He shouldn’t deny Thorin his good cheer and fun because Bilbo was so reluctant to share him with other hobbits. 

“E-excuse me, Mister Baggins?” A shy voice stuttered from behind him, startling Bilbo so badly he jumped. Bilbo whirled around and found Aster Cotton standing behind him and twisting her skirts in her trembling hands. “I-I was wondering if you w-wouldn’t mind a dance? I’d understand if you don’t w-want to, I mean, you have a p-partner, but since he’s busy elsewhere, oh goodness I don’t mean to imply-- what I’m trying to say i-is that that if you’d rather not sit here, but if you rather would it’s understandable, and I’m s-sorry I’m not explain myself very well, I just wanted to dance w-with you but I can see why you wouldn’t want to, I’ll just go back to my –”

“Miss Cotton!” Bilbo yelled, butting in before the poor lass ran out of breath and fainted at his feet. She was already turning from a bright pink to a harsh purple and she looked about ready to topple over any moment. Bilbo would rather not deal with talk involving fainting maiden at his feet, he would earn a reputation worse than Fortinbras.

Aster was as fair haired and ample bosomed as her cousin Lily, ten years younger than Bilbo himself and one of the most timid hobbits in the Shire despite her comely beauty. She had always been so nice to Bilbo and regardless of her hesitant nature she usually went out of her way to talk to him at events and he’d always enjoyed her company. 

She would be a very comfortable and ideal companion to dance with while he waited for the farandole dance to begin and he could get Thorin back.

“Sorry,” Bilbo apologized as Aster caught her breath. “I would love to dance, thank you for asking.”

He quickly got to his feet and took the hobbit lass’ hands in his, noticing they were still shaking and her cheeks still pink from embarrassment. Bilbo decided not to jump right into the fast footwork the other hobbits were displaying and instead started off slow, giving Aster the time she need to recover. 

“S-sorry,” Aster whispered, leaning into Bilbo arms as they twirled in a circle. 

Bilbo blinked, jerking his head back towards the lass. He’d almost gotten distracted watching Thorin again. It seemed the dwarf hadn’t even noticed Bilbo joining the dance floor. 

“What for?” Bilbo asked distractedly.

“I just w-wanted…” Aster sighed, her hands tightening around his. “Oh, bother. Nevermind.”

Bilbo slowed his steps even more, pulling the other hobbit closer so he could hear her mutterings. “No, tell me. We are friends, are we not? You shouldn’t be scared to say anything to me.”

Aster hiccupped, “No, no, it’s fine. I just wanted… t-to know how things were getting along. I haven’t seen you much since your mother’s f-funeral.”

It was like someone pushed snow down his shirt and then kicked him in the gut. Bilbo hadn’t given much thought to his mother since the things with Thorin had started. 

“Fine, I guess,” Bilbo said stiffly, his gaze moving off towards the hill with its tree and under that, Bag End. Something dark and nasty churned in his stomach and he felt suddenly nauseous. 

Aster ended up leading them through the rest of the dance, Bilbo’s feet following along obediently as his mind wandered. His thoughts an odd mixture of Belladonna and Thorin. She would have liked the dwarf, she always had a inclination towards outsiders unlike the rest of the hobbits of the Shire. Her kindness to strangers and her heartfelt sincerity would have endured herself to Thorin in return. He seemed to like those who were honest and genuine in character. It was such a shame they never would have a chance to meet. Thorin missed out on one of the greatest wonders of the Shire because of her passing.

“--ilbo? Bilbo!” Aster yelped as they collided with another group of dancers. No one fell, thank goodness, but Bilbo did trip over a pair of sparkling diamond shoes and found himself unexpectedly in Thorin’s arms with the dwarf smiling down at him like he’d caught some great prize. His cheeky grin startling Bilbo out of his sad mood and the hobbit could do little more than blink up at him.

“Hello,” Thorin said, grinning from ear to ear. He was sweating a bit, some of his hair loose from its low ponytail and sticking to his neck, and his white shirt clinging to his skin indecently. Bilbo felt something in his chest skip at Thorin’s jovial expression and handsome face, the dark shadows of his mind receding and his upset stomach soothing. 

“Hello,” Bilbo parroted quietly back. 

“Surprise to see you out here,” Thorin said in a voice that really meant he wasn’t. Prim made a huffing sound of exasperation behind him. 

“Oh.” Bilbo turned away from Thorin’s piercing blue-grey eyes, and instead allowed himself to get lost in the comfortable presence of his dwarf’s arms as he closed his eyes. If anything his sudden passivity only seemed to make Thorin concerned and his smile slowly melted off his face and into a look of worry. 

“Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“No,” Bilbo quickly reassured the dwarf, letting Thorin set him back on his feet with little fuss. “I’m fine.”

Aster beside them made a high pitched noise and hastily covered her mouth. Thorin turned to the hobbit lass and stared angrily at her like Bilbo sad feelings were her fault.

“What happened?” Thorin demanded towards Aster, ignoring Primula who was trying to herd them off the dance floor and out of everyone else’s way. Drogo and Jessamine had halted their dancing also, watching the group of them from the side with worried expressions. The majority of the dancers were still twirling about the dance floor, but some that had taken notice of them stalled and were keeping a watchful eye on them.

Bilbo sighed and tugged at Thorin’s scarf. “Nothing, leave it, Thorin. She didn’t do anything. I just got dizzy from all that drinking I did.”

Aster suddenly looked so horrified with herself, her ears and nose turning red as she clenched her fist against her skirts. “W-why didn’t you say so, Mister Baggins? I d-didn’t mean to f-force you into dancing with me. I’m so-so sorry.” Tears started to well up and catch in her thick lashes. 

“Oh, no! No, no, no, I didn’t mean it like that, my dear,” Bilbo said hurriedly as his stomach dropped. Thorin’s arms tightened around him and the hobbit squeaked when Primula’s put a cold hand against his cheek.

“He does feel a bit flushed,” Primula said, pulling her hand back and setting it on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Maybe he should sit down.”   

Thorin took charge and marched Bilbo back towards their table, Primula and Aster following slowly behind them as the Brandybuck lass tried to cheer up the crying hobbit. Ginnar, who’d been in the middle of kissing his husbands neck, jerked back and quickly kicked out their seats for them when he caught sight of Thorin’s thunderous expression. 

It seemed their timing was perfect because just as they sat down Lobelia and Otho walked onto the dance floor and everyone else abandoned it to give the couple a moment to perform their first dance together as husband and wife. Primula sent Bilbo a look over Thorin’s shoulder that said they would _talk_ later as she helped Aster back to her family. With a quick nod back towards the other hobbit, Bilbo leaned against Thorin’s side and let the dwarf fret over him. 

As the slow music for the dance started up, Otho and Lobelia started to leisurely waltz around the dance floor. The other hobbits cooed and sighed as the couple twirled about, tossing flower petals and grains of rice at their feet in celebration. Otho grinning wildly as Lobelia tried to keep her expression composed as rice got stuck in her hair. A light breeze twisted the petals about their feet and almost gave them a look of dancing on the wind. 

“Here,” Thorin muttered, thrusting a glass of water under the hobbit’s nose and keeping it there until Bilbo took it from him and drank.

“Thanks,” Bilbo sighed. The water did help, his head had felt fuzzy and his cheeks were still flushed.

Thorin grunted in acknowledgment, one arm wrapping around Bilbo’s waist as they watched the married couple dance together until the song ended. After that, all the other married couples hurried to the dance floor to perform the farandole, and even Reginard and Ginnar joined in. The dwarf dragged his feet and wouldn’t let go of his tankard until the last moment, but he was quick on his feet and seemed to know all the dance steps as easily as any hobbit.

“Do you still feel like dancing?” Thorin asked, turning to face Bilbo.

“Of course!” 

The dwarf raised an eyebrow and pushed the half-empty glass back into Bilbo’s hand.

“I do want to dance with you,” Bilbo promised, taking another sip. 

Thorin still seemed apprehensive about the hobbit’s health, so Bilbo tried to smile up at him and weaved one arm around the dwarf’s shoulder to pull him close, knocking their foreheads together in the familiar manner Thorin had done to him before. The move appeared to appease whatever worry the King still had and Thorin returned the grin hesitantly. After Bilbo pulled back, they sat together and watched the dancing. 

Soon, it was their turn. 

Thorin helped Bilbo to his feet and, together with three other couples, they went to the middle of the dance floor and lined up in a row. Bilbo was smart enough not to put them in the lead, that way Thorin could watch the others in front of him if he got confused. The married couples formed a circle around them, clapping along to the music and a few even singing the verses and whistling at the appropriate places. 

It was a fairly simple dance, slow and steady. There was no fast foot work or exaggerated movements, just mostly Thorin holding his hand as they walked in line before separating, then spinning in each other’s arms until they lined up into a single row and held hands again as they swayed to and fro. Bilbo couldn’t hold the snicker in when Thorin did the silly looking squats. He was so much taller and well built than the others and he had to look so bizarre on the dance floor doing the hobbit dance. Bilbo himself felt silly at some of the moves, the two little birds dance being a very old, traditional dance that only the elder members of the Shire enforced courting couples to do.

The fact was that there were very few couples whose technically first dance was this dance, since they all grew up together and most hobbits never left the Shire for much of anything. Thorin and Bilbo’s case was unique as to the detail that Thorin was a dwarf and had never been to a hobbit festival before their courtship began. If Bilbo had given it any thought before now, he would have found a private area, somewhere like the wide living room at Bag End, and had a slow dance with Thorin without the audience. It would have been more personal if not traditional.

Thorin held himself nobly regardless how the absurd dance moves might have made him look. He gave the whole affair a certain kind of regality to it and even when he missed a few steps he was quick to catch up and often made the moves look intentionally like he’d done it to be close to Bilbo just that much longer. When Thorin had to twirl Bilbo, he held the hobbit close and made sure to be gentle, never once stepping on Bilbo’s toes or causing him to trip. A couple of the matrons at the front of the circle sighed dotingly when they passed, sharing a nod with the other bridge club members sitting near the food who’d opted out of standing in regards to their bad hips. 

Well, Bilbo thought, hopefully that meant Thorin met to their approval.   

When the dance ended Bilbo felt almost disappointed. Not just because it was over, but because most of the dances from now on would be group dances and he’d have to share Thorin again. He felt like their moment had been too short. 

Thorin scratched at his jaw and grinned as the other hobbits clapped. They all seemed doubly impressed that a dwarf had been able to keep up with them and they all seemed to agree that Thorin was remarkable regardless of his lack of knowledge in regards to hobbit dancing. As some of them joined the dance floor to start another circle dance, they patted Thorin on the back and one even asked about dwarvish music. There was a spark in Thorin’s eyes at the inquiry, but Bilbo interrupted before the two could get started.

“Come on, Thorin, I’d like to sit for a moment.”

“Ah, another time,” Thorin told Mister Goodbody and the two made a promise to talk later. Once they sat back at their empty table, Bilbo pushed one of Ginnar’s leftover ale tankards towards Thorin, telling him to drink before he exhausted himself.   

“You did really well out there,” Bilbo beamed up at the dwarf. 

“It’s not too hard. There’s a similar dwarf dance that mothers perform with their young sons on the day they come of age.”

“Oh,” Bilbo gasped. Thorin had never once mentioned his own mother. It was sort of odd that Bilbo had never given her any thought until now, it wasn’t like Thorin sprung from the mountain fully formed and ready to sweep unsuspecting hobbits off their feet. He didn’t even know if she was alive or not. “I didn’t… um, well, you did really good, like I said. Finish drinking that and we’ll join the others for a couple of more dances before it gets too late.”

Thorin snorted and gave Bilbo’s braid a gentle tug. “If you like.”

It was late afternoon and the party would most likely run well into the night. Bilbo didn’t know how long Thorin could spend with him, but he imagined that there would be much to do tomorrow for the dwarf King and much to make up for missing a day of games. It would be best if they both retired early. 

After Thorin finished his drink they danced through five songs, simple group dances like the barn dance and the fat pig and they both even got their dance with Lobelia when the time came around for it. Then they took a break to refresh themselves and then danced some more. As the sun started to set and the children were put to bed, Thorin commandeered a harp from somewhere and played a pleasant song for the bride and groom, earning himself some gracious praise from Lobelia.

That’s when the alcohol really started flowing. 

Bilbo took no notice of Thorin getting into a drinking match with Sheriff Hornblower, but the hobbit had been showing off his jumping ability with the clover hop jig and egging Ginnar into joining him. If he’d known what was happening Bilbo would have stopped it before it happened, or at least warned Thorin to pace himself. Tobias Hornblower rather was known for his ability to hold his drink.

“Bilbo! Come get your boy, he’s about to pass out!” A yell went out across the field and Bilbo paused mid-step to just in time catch sight of Thorin toppling backwards and into a barrel of pink flowers. The crowd of smoking hobbits circled around the competing two broke out into laughter, hauling the dwarf upright and back onto the oak bench, chortling amongst themselves about the pink petals in Thorin’s hair.

“Oh goodness me,” Bilbo sighed, leaving Ginnar to the others and rushing to Thorin’s side. “Is he okay?”

“Eh,” Tobias shrugged, pulling out his pipe and lighting up some pipe-weed. “He’ll be fine once he sleeps it off. Thought them dwarves were made of sterner stuff.”  

“I can’t believe you –” Bilbo stopped himself before he said something he might regret. It was bad enough Thorin would probably have a hangover and now he’d have to deal with the humiliation of passing out in a competition in front of so many hobbits. It would be best to leave things be and deal with taking care of Thorin instead of scolding the others. They would only taunt the dwarf worse when they saw him next time and there was no use adding in Bilbo’s mother-henning to the mix.

Bilbo’s cousin Falco rushed over to help and tossed a cold bucket of water over Thorin’s head. The dwarf jerked awake, sprung up like a bee had stung him, and gave an indistinguishable yell of Khuzdul. Thorin whipped his wet hair around, growling low in his throat like an angry cat and looking ready to fight them all off. It seemed to take him a moment to remember where he was and what had happened.

“Falco!” Bilbo yelled, approaching Thorin cautiously. “I can’t– what am I going to do with you lot.” 

“What?” The other hobbit looked the least bit alarmed, though he was holding the now empty bucket and Thorin had turned his furious, water-logged expression on him. The rest of the hobbits just puffed at their pipes and watched them like they were the evening’s entertainment.  

Bilbo grabbed the dwarf’s hand before he could lunge for the other hobbit and do anybody some serious damage. “I think it’s time for us to head home, don’t you think, Thorin?” 

The dwarf made a wounded noise in the back of his throat, water dripping off his nose and onto his soaked scarf. He seemed to soften at Bilbo’s touch, becoming less tense as his muscles relaxed. Thorin’s white shirt was now practically see-through though. The shirt was so translucent that it clung to his muscles like a second skin, exposing the dwarf’s dark skin underneath. Thorin might as well could’ve been naked from the waist up. Bilbo felt his mouth dry up as a bit of chest hair was exposed by Thorin’s dipping collar.  

“Right,” Bilbo gulped, trying not to let his gaze wander back down to Thorin’s chest. “You’ll give Otho and Lobelia our best, won’t you, Falco? I’m taking Thorin home to sober up.”

“Okay,” Falco agreed easily, informing Bilbo he’d tell the newlywed Sackville-Baggins that they would pick up their presents tomorrow instead of waiting around for them to be passed out. 

Putting Thorin’s arm about his shoulder, Bilbo let the dwarf lean on him as they headed off. Thorin was heavy, but he was concious enough to take most of his weight on his own feet. A few hobbits sober enough to notice gave their goodbyes and even shouted at Thorin to come visit again. Mistress Brandybuck gave Bilbo a wink when she caught sight of them, teasing them not to do anything she wouldn’t do and especially without the correct quilts on the bed. 

This comment confused the half-drunk Thorin and he squinted back towards the matron as she wandered off. “I don’t get it.”

Bilbo flushed. “It’s better that way, believe me.”   

With Thorin stumbling beside him and slumped against him, they made slow progress to Bag End. When they finally made it up the hill, Thorin kicked off his shoes at the entrance, sending them sailing somewhere into the pantry, and then he promptly started to untied his scarf and hair the first chance he got.  

“Do you want some tea?” Bilbo asked, wondering distractedly how long it took dwarves to get clear-headed. If Thorin was lucky he wouldn’t be the type to get hangovers, but it was a very rare trait even in the Shire.

Thorin blinked slowly and tipped over to lean against the wall. “No.”

“Um,” Bilbo watched as the dwarf slowly slid down the wall and onto his rump. “Would you like some more water?”

That earned him a scowl. “I don’t like water.”

“Okay?” Bilbo looked the dwarf over and decided to do what he’d do for anybody be found in Thorin’s condition in his house. He got them a towel, helped them up, and offered them a bed to nap in until they felt well enough to travel. 

“Here, you can have my bed since I haven’t put new sheets on the spare. No! Wait, give me a moment,” Bilbo squeaked, ushering Thorin into the bathroom to freshen up. The dwarf had tried climbing onto the bed in his soiled clothes. “Let me just… I’ll find you something dry to wear, just wait.”

Thorin grumbled, but sleepy-eyed he did what was asked, unbuttoning his clothes as he went along with it. With Thorin successfully distracted, Bilbo changed into his own night clothes in the spare bathroom and threw on his robe for good measure. He couldn’t be sure his moving around the room afterward and getting his things together would disturb Thorin while he tried to sleep, so he figured it best to get ready now instead of later. After checking the spare bedroom for the extra nightshift one of his aunts had bought him as a tween when she’d thought Bilbo was growing to be as large as his great grandfather Bullroarer, he dusted the clothes off and inspected it for moth holes. Finding the shift to be near perfect condition was a relief. He wouldn’t have known what to do if it hadn’t been. Bilbo returned to his room with the larger nightshift and found Thorin in his smallclothes leaning against the sink, and brushing his teeth with Bilbo’s toothbrush.

The hobbit dropped the clothes at his feet, flushing so hard he felt his ears would burn off, and shuffled backwards out of the bathroom so quickly he found himself in his garden and hardly could remember how he got there without running into anything. 

Master Pumpernickel, who had been sitting on the fence watching the moon rise, snorted at him. 

“I don’t want to hear anything from you,” Bilbo grumped, twisting a tomato leaf in his hands as he gave Thorin time to get dressed. Then he gave him a couple of more minutes just in case. The expanse of skin that Bilbo had caught of sent tingles up his spine. Thorin was really well built and all that muscle to grab onto…

The cat made a chirping noise that jerked Bilbo out of his tipsy fantasy. 

After he promised to leave some dinner out for Master Pumpernickel, Bilbo treaded lightly inside to check on Thorin. Peeking into his own bedroom he saw the dwarf curled up around a pillow, sheets pulled up around his ears. 

“Thorin?”

“Hmm,” was the immediate answer.

Bilbo took a careful step into his room until he could work up the nerves to get closer. Thorin looked comfortable and about ready to slip into sleep, but Bilbo wouldn’t be sure everything was okay until he asked. “Do you need me to wake you up in a couple of hours so you can head back?”

“Wha?” Thorin glanced up and strained to see the hobbit in the dark room. “No more dancing. I’m tired.”

Bilbo laughed, “That’s not what I meant.”

The dwarf gave a grunt and blinked glassy eyes at him.

Walking closer until he was almost standing over him, Bilbo ran trembling fingers through Thorin’s drying locks. “When do you need to get up?”

“Ugh,” Thorin flopped his head back against the pillow. “In the morning, of course.”

“No, you can’t–” Bilbo was cut off when Thorin reached for him, grabbing his waist, and pulled the hobbit onto the bed. Curling around him like a snake, he locked Bilbo against his naked chest. 

“You didn’t–!” Bilbo squeaked, feeling Thorin’s bare legs against his own. The shift he had given the dwarf should have fallen to his ankles. 

“Mmm, sleep,” Thorin muttered, burying his face against Bilbo’s neck and snuffling cutely against the hobbit’s skin. Even thought there was every possibility that Thorin was half-naked under the covers with him, Bilbo wasn’t worried. He wasn’t the type to take advantage of a situation, and Bilbo swore to himself to keep his hands where he could see them.

“Thorin?” Bilbo whispered, trying to wiggle away. His struggles though only seemed to make it worse and Thorin was almost squeezing him too tightly against his body that it stole his breath away. And not in an altogether pleasant manner either. Bilbo went slack and patiently waited for the dwarf King to relax enough so that he could slip away. As embarrassing as this was, it wasn’t something Bilbo was too immature to handle. Otho was often a clingy drunk also, and there’d been many a time he’d tried to cuddle Bilbo as he fell asleep after a night at the pub. 

Only between the exhaustion of the day and all the drinking, maybe even the comfort of Thorin’s arms, Bilbo himself fell asleep. 

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aster Cotton is an actually OC. Most of the other hobbits are actually based on hobbits found in the family trees I use. I think there needed to be a more female presence in Bilbo’s life beside his immediate family (and Lobelia). I can’t imagine there wasn’t at least someone in the Shire who wasn’t attracted to Bilbo, despite his reputation. I have this whole headcanon that she admires Bilbo mostly for his outgoing attitude and it was spurs her attraction to him since she’s so shy herself. She’ll show up again!  
> Two little bird dance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8EJe7yO0Xzs  
> Sweet Kate is a traditional English dance and the barn dance is traditional in numerous countries. The fat pig and the clover hop though are made up to the best of my knowledge, but they sound fun and seem like something the hobbits would name a dance after. At least to me.  
> Also, I can totally see hobbits with a ‘babymaker blanket’. That’s what Mrs Brandybuck was referring to.  
> Trashed Thorin in my mind is the type who likes to be naked and sleeping. Just saying.


	24. Good Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning comes and with it, some surprises.

****

 

Something was prickling abrasively against Bilbo’s neck, causing the hobbit to jerk into a half-awake state and swat at whatever was bothering him.

There was a dry chuckling in his ear and the irritating feeling against his neck disappeared. Bilbo breathed deeply and snuggled into his pillow, the scent of lavender and something like spiced apples tickling his nose. He sighed blissfully into the comfort, smacking his lips together and wiggling his toes in his cozy cocoon of blankets. Something warm against his back provided a heavenly heat and he relaxed further into his light doze.

He’d never had such a restful morning before and it was good to have a lie-in after such a long night. The chores could wait and Master Pumpernickel could fend for himself for once, Bilbo thought to himself. He planned to lay peacefully here until lunch if he had to.

A large, sweaty hand slipped up his nightshift and settled against his round stomach.

Bilbo’s eyes flew open and he kicked back, arms flailing wildly and shoving at whatever – no, _whom_ ever – was behind him. The person let out a hiss and rolled right off the bed into a heap on the floor, taking the majority of the comforter with him.

“What the--!”

“Thorin?” Bilbo squeaked, fixing his shift and tightening the belt to his robe around his waist. The hobbit peeked hesitantly over the mattress. “What are you still doing here? It’s morning!”

“I was sleeping until a few minutes ago,” Thorin grumped, rubbing his aching head.

“Yes, but shouldn’t you be in the mountain by now?”

“What?” Thorin laid supine on the floor, arms spread eagle and sheets tangled about his waist and legs. “How did I end up… where am I? Is this Bag End?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said softly, wondering if the dwarf was hung over. “Do you remember last night?”

Thorin turned his head slowly towards the bed, his voice even more gravely than usual. “Most of it, the dancing and eating, even the drinking. I won’t underestimate you hobbits ever again. There’s not much I can remember after… did I faint?”

Bilbo covered his mouth to hide his smile. “Yes, into a barrel of pink flowers.”

Groaning, Thorin rubbed at his forehead. “Please, promise me you’ll never tell anyone. If the others, much less Dis, found out… I would never live it down.”

“I won’t,” Bilbo said, laying his head back on the pillow as he watched Thorin. He didn’t have much of a hangover himself, mostly because he drank enough water last night between his tankards of ale to pace himself. He hadn’t seen Thorin take any similar precautions last night, but he looked alright. Maybe  dwarves didn’t suffer the types of morning afflictions that came with a rowdy night of over drinking? “Unless you give me reason to.”

“Ah,” Thorin grinned. “You are a tricky one. I shall have to find something of equal value to hold over you.”

“You can try,” Bilbo teased, knowing there were probably a lot of things Thorin could find out to laugh at him about later. Eru knows the type of stories his relatives could have told the dwarf last night while Bilbo was occupied elsewhere. The whole Shire knew of his misspent youth and liked to remind the hobbit of the trials he put his mother and father through as a young lad. But Bilbo wasn’t too worried, he could take some mockery from Thorin if he had to, now that he had something on the dwarf king himself.

Thorin snorted, rubbing at his stubble and frowning at the ceiling. “I fear I have been misled about hobbits my whole life. You lot may look sweet and innocent, but truly you are a vicious race. I should caution the council to keep a close eye on you all.”

“If you say so,” Bilbo giggled, his morning cheered by Thorin’s presence and the dwarf’s joking manner. If Thorin wasn’t in a hurry to get back to the mountain, than there mustn’t be a reason to worry about their late morning waking up together. It was sort of… revealing to have this moment. Though it really wasn’t proper for Thorin to stay over during the night, it was thrilling to see him in such an exposed state.

Then Bilbo blushed, remembering that there was every possibility that the dwarf was naked under the sheets.

“What?” Thorin asked, raising an eyebrow and getting his elbows under him to sit up. 

“Nothing,” Bilbo muttered, keeping his eyes glued to Thorin’s face and biting his lips to keep from giggling hysterically.

“Are you laughing at me?” The dwarf growled, though he didn’t sound much offended by the hobbit smiling at him. He was able to sit up without losing the sheet even farther down his waist, tugging the ends around his hips and making a sort of skirt. “What does a King have to do around here to get any respect? Not even my own –”

Thorin paused, something under the bed had caught his eye. He reached under and pulled out a familiar box, and before Bilbo could stop him, opened the lid and stared at the contents.

“Is this…” Thorin gasped, shooting Bilbo a dazed look. Bilbo was now sitting up and huddled against the head board, hands clutching the top of his robe as his heart beat wildly in his chest and his breath caught.

Lifting the beautiful dagger out of the box, the dwarf examined the hilt. He seemed to admire the artisan’s work, his gentle finger smoothing over the delicate flower jewels encrusted into the green jade. In awe at the metal work, Thorin scrutinized the dagger from the silver guard to the inlaid swirling veins that ended near the pommel. Then he fully grasped the hilt and pulled the dagger out.

“Why would you have something like this hidden under your bed? It is a fine piece of work, you should have it displayed for all to admire.”

The hobbit bit his lips and bowed his head, the bead still holding his braid together bounced against his ear.

“Bilbo?”

“It’s… you aren’t supposed to see that yet.”

“This?” Thorin held the dagger up and the sun glinted off the blade. “Why not?”

“Um,” Bilbo blushed, hiding his face in his hands. “It’s the courting gift I planned to give you.”

“Oh…”

Bilbo peeked from between his fingers and caught sight of the gobsmacked expression on Thorin’s face. The dwarf had loosened his grip on the dagger, to the point of almost dropping it into his lap, but after a long moment of staring stunned at the sharp, silver edge of the blade, he set it reverently back into the wooden box.

“Sorry,” Thorin said distractedly. “I didn’t mean to pry into your things.”

Still barely able to catch his breath, Bilbo nodded instead. He watched cautiously as Thorin placed the box back into its spot under the hobbit’s bed. They both sat there for what felt like hours, Thorin on the floor half-naked and preoccupied with his thoughts, and Bilbo half-hiding behind his pile of pillows watching the dwarf warily.

“I –” Thorin’s voice cracked as he slowly got to his feet, holding the sheet tight against his hip. “This is maybe _improper_ , as you would say, but I’m pleased. I don’t think I’ve ever had a happier moment in my life besides the birth of my nephews. I awoke to a peaceful morning with you at my side; you wore before your clan and _still_ wear my braid, and now I have found proof of your desire to marry me –  and all I can think about is how if I kissed you now, you would let me.”

Bilbo squeaked, “But--but you’re naked!”

Thorin threw his head back and roared with laughter, his voice deep and gravely. “If that is all that holds me back, than you are in for a surprise.”

“Thorin –” Bilbo started to say but words left him as the dwarf practically prowled towards him. Looking much like a big cat stalking its prey, he swiftly joined the hobbit on the bed, and with little regards to the covers hiding his decency, Thorin climbed over the mattress until he was nose to nose with Bilbo. Naked except for his smallclothes, the dwarf’s face and broad shoulders took up much of the hobbit’s view – not that Bilbo had the presumption to steal a look at something that wasn’t quite his yet. 

“You test my self-restraint,” Thorin said roughly, running his fingers through the hair at Bilbo’s temple and tugging at the braid. “Your eyes watch me with hunger, but you deny even the simplest pleasure of our bodies. Your fingers hesitate to make contact where their touch is always welcome. Your lips gasp for the feel of my own, but you wait unwearyingly for me to entrust you with permission. You are patient and capable, where I am not, and I should not tease you for your steadfast convictions to wait as your people are ought to do. You are a befitting consort and if there was an Officiate near I would have us wed right now to put us both out of our misery. I would marry you here in your little hobbit-hole, with just our simple night clothes to cover us, with no courtly audience, and that ratted beast you call a house tenant as witness.”

“T-Thorin,” Bilbo’s voice trembled, chest heaving as he leaned towards the dwarf. Thorin’s heavy eyes watched him, his glance wandering from Bilbo’s eyes to his lips and back. He didn’t seem pleased by his easy seduction of the hobbit, instead he looked just as pained as Bilbo felt.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said softly, moving one hand to cradle the back of the hobbit’s head. “May I kiss you? Would you permit me this tiny concession of your sweet lips, though it is not completely proper?”

Left with little power for a speech of his own, Bilbo threw propriety to the wind and did what came naturally. He grabbed Thorin by his shoulders and pulled the dwarf into  a furious lip-lock filled with all the passion and love he felt for Thorin and poured it as best as he could into the kiss. It might not have been as lovely as it should have been, it being morning and their breath retched, but the adoration and fervor more than made up for any unpleasantness.

“Thorin!” Bilbo cried out between kisses, pulling the dwarf heavily on top of him and nearly banging their heads together in his enthusiasm.

“Bilbo, my treasure, my One,” Thorin sighed through his gasps for air, situating himself so all his weight wasn’t forced onto the hobbit. Instead he leaned on his elbows as his arms framed the hobbit’s head, the lower half of his body pressed intently down onto Bilbo’s. Thorin’s burgeon ardor pressed eagerly against his smallclothes and alongside Bilbo’s as their knees and ankles knocked against each other in a fumbling horizontal dance.

Clutching tightly to Thorin’s bare back, Bilbo mewled as Thorin dragged his lips down the hobbit’s jaw and to his neck, the dwarf’s beard scratching roughly against Bilbo’s soft skin. 

“I want--” Thorin panted, nosing aside the thick robe and biting gently against Bilbo’s collarbone as his hips bucked down in opposition to the hobbit’s sensual wiggling. “I want – Mahal’s _bloody_ hammer! I want to ravish you and crea--” Thorin choked as Bilbo reared up and bit his lips before dragging him into another eager, wet kiss. 

With his mind full of indecent and exciting thoughts, Bilbo hardly took notice of his own roaming hands. He grabbed and squeezed at whatever he could touch – desperate for contact with another or just Thorin – and it wasn’t until he clutched somewhere that made Thorin groan loudly against his neck and thrust hard downward that he took any thought to what his own body was doing. He froze partially, his legs locking around the dwarf’s hips as his hands clenched tight to their prize.

Thorin said something in broken Khuzdul as Bilbo glanced down and saw that his wandering hands had seized the firm muscles of the dwarf’s cloth covered rump.

“Oh!” Bilbo squeaked, blinking slowly as he forced his hands to let go and slip upwards towards Thorin’s shoulders. The dwarf King practically purred as the hobbit’s hands caressed his spine and the hobbit’s small fingernails scratched at his shoulder blades.

“I don’t mind,” Thorin rasped, smirking roguishly with his red, swollen lips.

Bilbo blinked, meeting the dwarf’s bright blue-grey eyes as Thorin hovered over him. The sun was peeking through the window and threw the whole room into an ethereal scene like those drawn in Bilbo’s books. The sunlight turned Thorin’s skin a pale gold and sent up a glowing halo around the King’s head. Thorin’s long hair tumbled over one tanned shoulder in a thick black wave, the silver clasps at the end of his braids sparkling in the dawning light. Bilbo felt his breath catch for a different reason than earthly pleasures. For here was a true King of Middle-Earth, crowned by Ilúvatar and garbed in the glowing beams of the sun. No throne or any amount of gold would convince Bilbo what this moment did of Thorin’s true birth right.

Thorin took no notice of Bilbo’s sudden rapture, instead he seemed to be doing some inspecting of his own. His callused fingertips traveled from the hobbit’s neck to his clavicle, tracing the route his lips had trailed not a moment earlier. He hesitated over a certain spot he’d worried, pressing down with his thumb as he admired the changing color of the hobbit’s skin. “We shouldn’t go farther. I fear we have already treaded past what is respectable to your people and I should not do anything that you will regret later.”

Bilbo let out a tiny whimper as Thorin pulled back, the dwarf untangling their legs and fixing Bilbo’s robe for him.

“Thorin…” the hobbit sighed, lying back as the dwarf got to his feet. Thorin seemed less concerned with his own modesty, ostensibly ignoring his sprouted length pushing diligently against his smallclothes, and instead making sure Bilbo was decently covered by both his robe and extra blankets. 

Something animalistic and ravenous clawed inside Bilbo, begging to pull the dwarf back over him and continue on with their… intimacies. It was all very un-Baggins like, but an entirely pleasing idea to the Took side of him, to roll around naked in bed with Thorin as the day awoke. Both shame and pleasure turned the hobbit’s cheeks pink as he watch the dwarf extract himself from bed and adjust himself inelegantly. Even as Thorin tucked the sheet back around his waist, something wanton inside the hobbit howled mournfully at the act.

Had Thorin even attempted to continue, Bilbo would have put up little resistance. He didn’t think he would regret any actions they pursued, but it was expected of him to wait and he would lament that he broke tradition. While some hobbit couples dallied before their weddings, a gentlehobbit like Bilbo was expected different decorum. A respectable hobbit was only to lay with his husband the first night after their wedding and from then ever after. That was how things were supposed to go.

Oh, but how Bilbo wished they didn’t. To bank their desire for each other so abruptly seemed cruel and unjust. It would almost be kinder to risk the bad reputation if only to quench that fire growing inside him.

The hobbit burned like a roaring fire from the tips of toes to the top of his head with want of his dwarf. Thorin had lit the spark with his kiss and now he let the flames rage through his intended with little thought to controlling it. So while Thorin appeared to easily pull away, Bilbo withered on the bed until the cool morning air had chilled him enough he no longer felt like he was going to burn from the inside and turn to ash right there on the mattress.

With hooded eyes, the hobbit watched Thorin’s broad back as he made his way to the bathroom. The dwarf’s steps were slow and uncomfortable looking, the white sheet dragging behind him like a dress train. Bilbo would feel sorry for him if he wasn’t in the same situation without somewhere to run to deal with his little _problem_ in peace.

Bilbo coughed through a hysterical laugh as the door closed deafeningly behind the dwarf. He felt light headed and heavy hearted, curling his arms around Thorin’s pillow and smothering himself against it. He tried to will himself calm, promising to take hold of his plight at a later time when the house was to his own again and the temptation to follow Thorin into the bathroom was not so an appealing thought.

Knowing there would be little chance of getting anymore sleep after Thorin’s rancorous kisses, Bilbo turned his mind instead to planning out the day. The boring routine would help cool his heated blood and lower his frantic heartbeat. He wondered if there was enough time to make a hearty breakfast for the dwarf and maybe after he got dressed they could walk together back to Erebor? The Thain would probably need help with planning the party for the elves, but that was something the hobbit wouldn’t worry about until later. His focus was mostly on spending as much time with Thorin as was allowed today. 

It was just as Bilbo had forced himself from the bed that he heard a peculiar sound coming from down the hall. Fixing the collar of his robe and ignoring the funny sounds coming from his bathroom, Bilbo wandered out of his room to investigate.

Peeking through the window, the hobbit at first thought that nothing was there, at least until there was a large squawk and Bilbo jumped back in fright. Quickly checking out the window once more, the hobbit threw open the door and was greeted by the sight of about twenty large ravens sitting on his fence glaring at him.

“Um…” Bilbo paused, unsure who to address.

Roäc hopped forward and landed on the bench near the door. “Master Baggins,” the bird began in his craggy voice, “I am here to inquire about the presence of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King under the Mountain. Might I speak with him if he is still here?”

“I guess,” Bilbo stuttered, smoothing a palm down his front in nervousness. “He’ll be just a m-moment, I’m sure. Um, would you lot like something to eat while you wait? I’m about to put some bacon on the oven.”

Roäc’s beady black eyes alighted with rekindled vigor, his wings flapping out before he quickly tucked them back beside his body as if embarrassed by his excitement. “I would say that is a most delightful prospect. We would enjoy a meal while we wait, it had been a long morning searching for the lost King.”

Not wanting to get pulled into a conversation questioning Thorin’s apparent misplacement, Bilbo nodded and left the door halfway open while he hurried to his cold cellar for the bacon slices he left out to thaw the day before. As the bacon started to sizzle on the pan, the hobbit could hear the ravens discussing amongst themselves about how polite hobbits were and about the quality of meat from the smell in the air. It was a bit disconcerting to have birds talking about him, but nothing Bilbo couldn’t handle.  They seemed to be in agreement that he was a pleasant fellow so that was something.

Only as he was passing out stripes of bacon to each of the birds did Bilbo wonder at Thorin’s continued absence. Certainly it didn’t take that long to deal with his… yes, well. Bilbo cleared his throat and excused himself from Roäc’s company to check on the dwarf. Surely Thorin didn’t have the type of stamina that would make him last that long?

With a tingling thrill shooting up his spine, Bilbo almost skipped towards his bedroom and paused outside the closed door.

“Thorin, are you decent?”

“What?”

“Are you decent,” Bilbo repeated, unsure if Thorin could hear him through the wood.

“Come in, I think we are past being shy in each other presence,” Thorin groused, opening the door for Bilbo to join him.

Bilbo blushed but complied with the order, walking slowly into the bedroom as he looked around like he was seeing his own bedroom for the first time. Thorin was sitting on the end of the bed in his purple pants from yesterday and nothing else, almost through with the process of re-braiding his hair. He appeared to have taken a bath while Bilbo had been making breakfast. The dwarf’s skin was scrubbed pink and his hair still wet where it dripped down his chest.

“You, um,” Bilbo scratched at the back of his neck and looked towards something else in the room beside his bed and the half-dressed dwarf watching him. The hobbit’s eyes instead landed on the golden puzzle box sitting on his dresser. “You have visitors of a sort.”

“Me?” Thorin tied the end of his braid and clipped the bead back into place. “Here?”

Nodding, Bilbo bit his still tender lips. “Yes, ravens from the Mountain.”

Thorin was on his feet in seconds, rushing past Bilbo and outside to the flock of birds waiting for him. A cry went out at the dwarf King’s appearance and all the birds started talking at once.

“Silence!” Thorin roared, searching the crowd until he spotted Roäc swallowing the last of his bacon. “You first. Tell me what news you have.”

Bilbo was sure a bird could not frown even if he wanted to, but Roäc made a good attempt at it anyways. He sniffed, holding up one skinny leg as if to point a claw towards Thorin before he thought better of it. “Your Majesty, I am here to inform you that the Lady Dis expects your presence in her chambers an hour before breakfast. You both need to go over the schedule of the day and then King Bard, wonderful lad I must say, is to be shown the ruby mines after lunch.”

Thorin groaned and rubbed his forehead. “She’s going to skin me alive. Anything else?”

Another bird spoke up, “Master Balin requires your signature on the scrolls he sent you to review three days ago. The accountants need them before they can pay the guards their salary.”

“Also,” a strangled voice croaked, this was the raven Bilbo had caught earlier falling asleep standing up, bacon held tightly in its drooping beak. “Master Náli was inquiring to your whereabouts last night. He was looking for you and wants to speak about the conversation he had with you earlier –”

Thorin turned quickly and snarled at the bird. “Tell Master Náli I dismissed his misgiving on the grounds that his foolish suspicions are unfounded and idiotic. I will not speak with him again about this.”

The raven huffed and without further questions, flew off towards the mountain. The rest of the birds looked hesitant to speak with Thorin scowling like he was.

“Thorin,” Bilbo interrupted, “would you like me to make you some breakfast to go?”

“I’m sorry,” Thorin turned around and hugged the hobbit, though he’d done nothing to Bilbo in particular to warrant the sudden apology. “I had hoped to spend the morning with you, but it appears I have much to do even though I’ve delegated many of my duties to others for the day.”

“It’s fine,” Bilbo said. “I understand. You’re a busy and important dwarf, so many demand your attention. We cannot always put our needs above others. How about I make you a sandwich to go?”

“You are too good to me,” Thorin sighed, kissing the hobbit’s head before letting go. Bilbo stumbled back and inside to the kitchen. There he wrapped the cooked eggs and bacon into a croissant, sprinkling some cheese onto the hot meat before he wrapped it all up in a handkerchief. He also filled a small glass bottle with some fresh milk delivered to his back porch this morning, and, along with an apple and sweet berry tart, put it all into a small basket for Thorin to carry on his journey back to his kingdom.  

Not wanting to disrupt Thorin’s conversation with the ravens, he sat down at the table where he had a clear view of the front door and saw to his own meal. He was through to his second sandwich and onto his third when Thorin came inside and slammed the door behind him.

“Busy day ahead?” Bilbo asked, blinking wildly when he noticed Thorin was still shirtless. Had the dwarf stood outside on the hobbit’s doorstep like that this whole time? The neighbors were going to talk.

“Yes,” Thorin grumbled, peeking into the basket as his stomach growled. “My nephews said they would handle things until my return, but it appears things have gotten out of hand and now my sister is after my hide for dumping my duties on them.”

The hobbit laughed, sliding the basket closer. “I’m sure Fili and Kili tried their best, and Lady Dis is probably worried about you. This should hold you until you are home, I don’t want to keep you longer than necessary.”

“It is never long enough when I am with you,” Thorin said, bending over to nuzzle Bilbo’s cheek with his large nose. “I will treasure the memory of this morning and recall it as my council scolds me for being late.”

“Goodness, I hope not!” Bilbo squeaked, blushing hotly under his collar at the thought. “Just imagine the predicament you’d put yourself in. You wouldn’t be able to leave without embarrassing yourself.”

Thorin chuckled against the hobbit’s neck, peppering the skin there with ticklish, light kisses. “True, but it might also hurry up proceedings if they see how I am distracted.”

Leaning his head to the side to let Thorin nibble at his jaw, Bilbo tried to suppress the shivers as the dwarf’s lips trailed upwards towards his pointed ear. With a tiny bite to the lobe, Bilbo squeaked and nearly fell out of his seat if Thorin hadn’t caught him.

“Aha!” Thorin grinned madly, holding Bilbo against him. “I thought so. Now I know your weakness.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo whined, balling his hands against the dwarf’s hairy chest. “You are going to be late. Or later than you already are.”

“Yes, yes,” Thorin sighed, quickly leaning down and stealing a kiss from Bilbo’s greased lips. “I do have to leave, but know I do so only because it is vital to my kingdom. Shall you be coming to see the games today? I want you to sit with me and my family again.”

“I can’t,” Bilbo said softly. “I should help the other hobbits prepare for the elves’ arrival. It’s my fault we’re in this situation to begin with and it would be rude of me not to assist them.”

Thorin’s happy smile turned quickly into a frown. “Ah, I’d almost forgotten about them. Surely you can just help prepare and then come spend your time with me instead? I would like to hold dinner for you in Erebor for a change. The other hobbits can entertain the _elves_ without you.”

Bilbo sighed, “I don’t doubt it, but I should stay none the less. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Thorin snorted, like it wasn’t soon enough to be suitable for him. “If you must.”

“I do,” Bilbo said, smiling up at Thorin and tugging his fresh braids. “Now get dressed and run along, we both have work to do.”

Thorin chuckled but complied with the command, leaving Bilbo with one more kiss before he went in search of the rest of his clothes. His shirt was horribly wrinkled from last night, but his coat covered it once he slipped the heavily decorated material over the ruined tunic. The shoes were a bit trickier to find –  somehow the dwarf had kicked the right one into a barrel of salted fish and the stink was so horrendous that Thorin almost wanted to walk back barefoot to avoid wearing them. 

“They would think I was a bad influence on you,” Bilbo teased, watching Thorin pinch his nose and hold the shoes out like they would catch fire. “If you want, I might have some slippers somewhere you can wear instead.”

“Please,” Thorin begged, throwing the diamond shoes into the kitchen sink.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at the dwarf’s casual disregard for the slippers, but said nothing about it. What Thorin did with his things was none of his business. The house slippers Bilbo found were actually too large for Thorin; usually human visitors would wear them when they stopped over on business with his father and mother. They’d been collecting dust in the corner of his linen closet for over a year now.

“Here, this is all I have.” Bilbo set the soft fluffy slippers at Thorin’s feet. “I’ll see about getting your shoes cleaned while you are away.”

“That’s fine,” Thorin agreed, slipping the borrowed shoes on and wiggling his toes. They didn’t quite match the rest of his grand outfit, but it was either them or the smelly shoes Thorin came over in.

Dressed and with basket in hand, the dwarf slowly rocked in place next to the door. He seemed almost reluctant to leave, which Bilbo understood perfectly. The hobbit felt disinclined to let him go.

“Bilbo, can I ask a favor?”

“Of course!”

Thorin reached a hand out and pressed it against the hobbit’s shoulder, pulling Bilbo awkwardly forward until their chests were almost touching and bending forward to knock their foreheads together. “In two days’ time, I will be… I shall be crowned. I would like you to be there, to have a place of authority at my side.”

Bilbo bit his lips to cover his surprised gasp. “Me? Really?”

“Yes,” Thorin nodded, “Tomorrow night, have dinner with me in my rooms? I have your third gift ready and if you find it acceptable, I would...I would ask that we make it official. Once the coronation is finished, I will announce to the kingdoms our engagement.”

It felt like the ground had dropped out from under him. Bilbo’s mind swirled with the implication and dread of Thorin’s plan. Did the dwarf plan to do this in front of just his people or the entire representatives to the other realms alongside them? That was just crazy! Bilbo wasn’t ready for something like that!

“I– I wouldn’t…” Bilbo paused when he caught sight of Thorin’s expression. The proud dwarf’s timid smile had gone apprehensively blank, and his eyes appeared hooded with doubt. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,” Bilbo finished quickly, not thinking of anything but making the dwarf happy again.

Thorin’s smile almost pierced his heart, he looked so pleased. “You’ll come?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said, nodding rapidly. He didn’t have any idea what he was getting himself into, but if it pleased Thorin that was all that mattered. Besides, they were just making an announcement, that wasn’t so big a deal. “I don’t think I have the appropriate clothes for a coronation, but I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“I’ll handle it,” Thorin rushed to say, his cheeks pink with joy. “Worry about nothing but showing up.”

“If you say so,” Bilbo said hesitantly.

“I do,” Thorin reassured him, placing another kiss against Bilbo’s forehead. “Thank you, I know this isn’t something you would usually wish for, but it means a lot to me that you agreed.”

With little idea what to say to that, Bilbo stood on his toes and gave Thorin one last goodbye kiss.

Though his mind whirled with the confusing thoughts about the future ceremony, his foolish heart was still caught in the tender moment of expressing his love for Thorin. He’d known what he was getting into when he agreed to be courted by the King, so it was too late to protest now. Bilbo would just have to get used to the publicity that came with being engaged to Thorin.

Reluctantly the dwarf pulled away because Roäc started squawking again about hurrying up.

“Dinner tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes, dinner tomorrow,” Bilbo confirmed. “Send a letter or something with the time and place. I wouldn’t like to be late.”

“Agreed.” Thorin then said something soft in Khuzdul and with one last long kiss, he was gone.

Hamfast leaned over his fence to wave at the dwarf king, and then he turned to wag a finger at Bilbo. “Did he stay the night? You two better not have gotten up to anything. Where’s your chaperone? He should have watched over you.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and put the other hobbit at ease, explaining that Thorin had been too drunk last night to try anything. Hamfast huffed and after straightening his jacket, concluded that Bilbo’s reputation hadn’t suffered much. It appeared the rumor around the Shire was that Thorin was a friendly and wholly respectable suitor for Bilbo Baggins. 

“Still, him standing undressed on your porch this morning,” the other hobbit grumbled. “Couldn’t get my Bell away from the window for the whole time he was out there.”

Bilbo laughed and the two made plans for lunch later, since they both had volunteered to help set up the festivities for the elves. The round hobbit seemed excited at the idea of finally meeting an elf, much less an elf king. Hamfast rushed to assure Bilbo that Thorin was indeed a mighty King himself and it was such a grand thing to know someone of such standing personally, but… _elves_. Bilbo didn’t take any insult and actually nodded along in agreement before the two conspired never to let Thorin know of their devious betrayal. Thranduil had struck such a striking figure even amongst his equally beautiful group of elvish companions, though he’d baffled the hobbit quite easily when they had last met.

Once back inside Bilbo went about his usual routine of getting dressed and ready for the day. Master Pumpernickel was still mysteriously missing, but the hobbit didn’t think much of it until he was heading out to the Gamgee’s and the cat’s bowl was still full of chicken cutlets. He hadn’t seen the beast since last night and now that he thought about it, Bilbo was sort of worried that Master Pumpernickel hadn’t ambushed them this morning while Thorin and he rolled around in bed.

With a quick excuse to Hamfast, Bilbo went in search of his wayward tenant. Checking all over the smial and even outside, he couldn’t find the beast. He almost just gave up except when he was making his final rounds looking in the shed and he heard the most dreadful noise imaginable coming from nearby.

“Master Pumpernickel?” Bilbo walked around to the back of the building and found a familiar cage holding the angry beast. “Oh Eru, what happened!”

Bilbo unlocked the wired cage and the cat shot out like a fire was lit under him. He paused at the back door to grumble at Bilbo, and then he flattened his ears against his head and glared towards the mountain.

The idea was preposterous, but Bilbo couldn’t think of anything else that made sense. “Did…did Fili and Kili do this to you?”

Master Pumpernickel hissed and puffed up his tail.

With a heavy sigh, Bilbo got to his feet and dusted off his hands. There really wasn’t an excuse for the young Princes behavior, he’d have to tell Thorin what they’d done. If Bilbo hadn’t taken the time to search for the cat, he could have gotten really sick out here alone, without food or water. It was really quite cruel of them to do that to the animal.

“I’m sorry, your breakfast is waiting for you in the kitchen. We’ll deal with the Princes later, but right now I have to visit the neighbors before I head down to the party tree to help set up for the festivities.”

The cat sniffed and turned on his tail, walking inside Bag End and totally unimpressed with the hobbit. With little else to do, Bilbo fixed his clothes and headed over to the Gamgee’s. 

What was he going to do with those dwarves?

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the continued absense of the elves, I'm getting to them. This chapter is dedicated to Erimies (Happy Birthday!!) for being awesome and giving me ideas for the next chapter. Thanks! =)


	25. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The elves arrive in the Shire. And just because Bilbo’s own relationship is currently stable, doesn’t mean he should be giving advice to others.

****

Bilbo was standing on a ladder trying to hang some lanterns when a hand came out of nowhere and stole the lamp from him, easily hanging it on the branch Bilbo had been having trouble reaching.

“Let me, Mister Baggins,” Legolas said from behind him, standing tall on his tip-toes to reach over the hobbit’s head.

“Oh!” Bilbo startled in surprise, turning around and catching sight of a few other elves around the field helping the hobbits set up for the festivities. It wasn’t the whole delegation of them; maybe around ten young looking elves in guard uniforms, along with Legolas and Tauriel. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”

“It is no problem,” Legolas smiled sweetly. The elf Prince was in a stylish, long blue tunic with a beautifully decorated belt designed in colorful flowers and green trees. A large green leaf clasp held his darker blue cape around his neck, and a simple silver circlet was set on his head. He looked every inch a Prince of the Greenwood and Bilbo felt a bit barmy for inviting such a faire race of people to a silly hobbit gathering to celebrate a dwarf holiday. The elves were going to think so poorly of them, especially when they saw how the hobbits acted once you got some alcohol in them.  

“Y-you are early,” Bilbo stuttered, letting the tall elf help him off the ladder. “We won’t be ready for your arrival for a few hours yet.”

“That’s fine,” the Prince said genially, “We are actually here to help.”

“Oh no! You shouldn’t,” Bilbo gasped. If the Thain Paladin found out they were enlisting their guests to lend a hand, there would be a riot.  

Legolas just waved off the hobbit’s concern though. “It would be rude of us not to actually. There are a large number of us and we cannot expect you all to provide everything.”

Bilbo sputtered, looking wildly around at the other elves lending aide. Two tall soldiers were sitting with a group of the children helping make flower crowns, another three were helping Hamfast with the seating, and Tauriel, in a gorgeous pink gown, was standing proudly over the fire pit with a large bloody boar over one shoulder. How she didn’t stain her dress, the hobbit would never know, but he suspected _magic_. 

“Still…” Bilbo sighed, feeling resigned. None of the other hobbits looked to be putting up a fuss. Falco, if anything, looked rather impressed by the elf maiden, and the children were giggling gleefully when one soldier started placing gardenias about the other soldier’s long silver hair. 

Legolas put a companionable hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Allow us this opportunity. My soldiers were getting bored waiting for the festivities to start and my father was driving me crazy with his pacing. He thinks King Thorin is holding him up on purpose, since they have a meeting later today before he is set to come here.”

“Oh, fine,” Bilbo said, crossing his arms and sighing loudly. He really hoped Thorin wasn’t impeding Thranduil on purpose, but really he wouldn’t put it past the dwarf. Bilbo would have to talk to the dwarf King about being nicer to the elves. They were quite friendly from the hobbit’s perspective and a good ally for the Kingdom if there was to be any trouble. It didn’t make sense to him why Thorin was so persistent in his dislike of them.  

With just a couple of more lanterns to hang, Bilbo let Legolas help him. The elf was tall enough he didn’t need a ladder, and he was even able to reach those tricky places Bilbo couldn’t get to, like the end of the tree limbs. Since the other elves were now being directed by the hobbits on where to put things and how to decorate, it cut their responsibilities in half and lent more time to other things, like cooking. 

Bilbo hurried over to the long table set up for the food, most of it unfinished. The majority of the fare would arrive with the baker and tavern cook, but some things were cooked communally. Rose Burrow was in the middle of mixing some cream cheese batter for the pastries, while Porto Baggins worked on the sourdough. Both looked up when Bilbo and Legolas joined them.

“Hello Mister Baggins and – _erk!_ ” Porto stared wide-eyed at the elf Prince, almost dropping an egg on his foot. 

Bilbo gestured towards the elf. “This is Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. He and his soldiers have offered to help us while they wait. Is there anything that needs to be done? My duties are finished and Hamfast has help so I’m not needed over there.”

“Um, well,” Rose blinked wildly before she shook herself and nodded towards the fruits. She was a fine lass, with a good head on her shoulders and wasn’t easily shaken by outsiders. It was such a shame what Robin Goold had done to her. “The cherries need to be pitted and the raspberries mashed for the jam fillings.”

Not wanting the elf’s lovely clothes to be ruined, Bilbo lent Legolas his favorite yellow apron to keep the soft looking cloth from being stained. It was sort of small, so the elf had to do with just wrapping it around his waist instead of his whole front, but it would do if they were careful.

Legolas ended up pitting the cherries, since it was less messy, as Bilbo worked on squashing the raspberries into jam and adding sugar. They sat together at the end of the table away from the others, talking quietly amongst themselves. 

After a moment’s pause, the Prince seemed to gather himself. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your relation to King Thorin? I saw you sitting with him and his family during the archery games and wondered.”  

“Um,” Bilbo blushed, trying hard not to think about this morning and Thorin lying on top of him. The rough, heady kisses the dwarf peppered down his jaw and the bruise he’d left low on Bilbo’s neck, barely hidden by his shirt collar. “He’s… well, I guess there’s no use hiding it since you’ll find out soon enough – but we’re courting.”

“Oh!” Legolas smiled, eyes crinkling up in genuine delight. “Congratulations. You must be very happy.”

“I am,” Bilbo bowed his head. And the hobbit was happy, almost bursting with overwhelming feelings for Thorin. Some days Bilbo almost felt like yelling out from the hill top of Bag End about how much he loved Thorin, just to prove how greatly he desired the dwarf. It was a silly thought, but Thorin would probably appreciate it. “He is very good to me and he loves me, despite my simple upbringing.”

“That is a good,” Legolas said kindheartedly, working easily on the cherries and not getting a drop of juice on his clothes. “Thorin Oakenshield does not seem the type of dwarf to judge a person by his birth, but by his growth of character instead. He is wiser than I thought and he chose well when he gave his heart to you. I believe you two are a good match for each other and I think Erebor will be prosperous with you by his side.”

“Oh goodness, _stop!_ You’re making me blush.” Bilbo felt his ears turn red at the praise and tried to hide his face in his arms without getting raspberry pulp on him.   

“If you wish me to I will,” Legolas stated sympathetically. “Only I think you should know that his demeanor _has_ changed since I last saw him. He is kind and more patient than he was before. I think somehow you are an influence on him, though you might not know it.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Bilbo groused, thinking of how Thorin had acted when he’d first met him. Thorin had been quite rude and boorish – it had been half the reason why the hobbit had thought him simple-minded. Thinking about how the dwarf King acted now, there was a noticeable difference. The same Thorin Bilbo had met on his hill top under the tree wouldn’t have gotten along so well with the hobbits at the wedding last night. He had been so well received that he’d gotten approval from the clan without even trying. Originally Bilbo hadn’t set out to change the dwarf, and yet somehow he had done just that without even meaning to. 

“He can be stubborn when he wants to be, so don’t think I’ve changed him so much he’s a different person,” Bilbo explained quickly, embarrassed by the Prince’s praise. “Now, let’s talk about other things, like how you’ve done in the competitions so far.” 

The elf laughed, but did as Bilbo asked and their conversation instead turned towards the games and what all Bilbo had missed staying in the Shire for the last two days. He learned that Fili had actually won a competition, some gem cutting one that no elves had even bothered entering. The hobbit hoped it hadn’t been held yesterday, or Thorin would have missed it. 

“Tauriel won in the spear throwing,” Legolas grumped, shooting a half-hearted glare towards the elf maiden, who was laughing along with her hobbit admirers around the roasting boar. “And Gimli came in third in the axe contest. He would have gotten second but he’d gotten distracted at a crucial moment and missed the mark by a hair. I’m afraid he’s been rather cross since then and he hasn’t put up with my teasing any better because of it. I told him he deserved at least second place and he tried to charge me.”

“Goodness! Gimli _did_ that?”

Legolas stared confused into the distance, specifically towards the Lonely Mountain. “I thought I was complimenting him. He is rather young compared to most of the contestants and he did really well. Winning third or second isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

“No, it’s not,” Bilbo agreed, watching the elf’s face go through a series of expressions. He couldn’t seem to decide if he was upset, amused or philosophical about the encounter and finally ended up cringing at the hobbit instead.

“Do you think I am overly callous to him? I don’t mean to be and I only meant to tease him a little.”

Bilbo wondered why the elf Prince was teasing the young dwarf to begin with, and why he was coming to Bilbo for advice. He figured it could be because the hobbit had experience dealing with dwarves from another race’s perspective, but Thorin wasn’t anything like Gimli and vice versa. He hadn’t the first clue to what the young dwarf was thinking in regards towards Legolas and their bantering. From what Bilbo had seen Gimli gave just as good back and was often the instigator of maybe of their disputes.

“Personally, I don’t think so,” Bilbo said slowly, sucking some jam that had gotten onto him off his knuckle. “But if you’re worried about making him angry, maybe you should stay away from him for a while? At least until his temper cools.”

Puzzled by Bilbo’s advice, Legolas sunk deep into thought. “Should I ignore him? It might make him desirous of my company if he no longer has it.”

Bilbo’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t sure exactly where the Prince was going with his suggestion but it didn’t sound anything like the hobbit had meant. “Um, if y-you think so?”

“Yes, you are astute.” Legolas nodded, his decision made. “Some time apart might make him fonder of me.”

With nothing else to do, Bilbo shrugged helplessly. “You must know that I am not that very well acquainted with Gimli like I am some of the others, so I can’t guarantee he will react like planned. What I do know of him I learned mostly from his father.”

“Oh?” Legolas leaned forward curiously, the majority of his cherries almost done. The bottle he was using to push the pits into with a straw was just about full. 

“Yes, well, Master Glóin won’t stop talking about his family once you get him started – he’s rather proud of them. I probably know more about his wife than her own mother, and I’ve never met the woman! His infatuation for her is just as strong as when they met, if not stronger.”  

“That is romantic,” the Prince sighed. 

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at the elf’s dreamy expression. “She is his One, or so he says, and I guess it is rather romantic if you think about it.”

“Are you Thorin’s ‘One’?” Legolas sat back, watching Bilbo closely with his sharp, piercing blue eyes.

“I–  I suppose I am,” Bilbo stuttered. Thorin’s lovingly whispered words against his lips this morning still rang in his head. He’d called Bilbo his treasure, his _One_. Hobbits didn’t have any words like that for the ones they devoted themselves to – except for the usual kind – but if he could put to words the feelings he had for Thorin, well… there were just no words to describe it. Bilbo could sort of understand the simplicity and reverence of labeling someone just that important to you with the word. Maybe calling the dwarf King _his_ One would suffice?  

“You are blessed then,” Legolas informed him, setting the straw down when he was finished with the cherries. “I hear dwarves are very dutiful to their spouses.”

“So I’ve heard also,” Bilbo replied, recalling that long ago conversation he’d had with Thorin when the dwarf had admitted to wanting to court him. “Are elves not the same though? I know things are sometimes different with hobbits and Men, but I would imagine elves are no less dedicated to their loved ones also?”

Legolas suddenly looked uncomfortable and Bilbo worried he’d somehow insulted or treaded into personal territory where he should not have. He didn’t know much about Legolas or his people, and what little Bilbo did know he’d read in books and heard from rumors. As a new acquaintance Bilbo should have watched what he said around the Prince.

“Sorry, my manners,” Bilbo rushed to apologize. “I shouldn’t ask such personal questions.”

“No, it’s fine,” Legolas didn’t look too upset with the hobbit. He set his hands in his lap carefully and sat up straight, looking Bilbo straight in the eyes. “My kin marry freely and for love. And while some might choose not to marry at all, when we do fall in love, it is much like dwarves and we give ourselves only to them and none before or after.”

“Oh,” Bilbo gasped, frozen as he listened to the elf. He hadn’t expected the Prince to be so honest and forthcoming. The dwarves were known to be rather reluctant to talk about their race’s history or lifestyle with outsiders, so Legolas’ easy compliance was surprising. 

The elf continued, looking suddenly forlorn. “But my kin live a long time and passion fades. So while love remains, sometimes the will to be together passes and they will separate for some time. Many choose to sail west to Valinor, the Undying Lands, spending the rest of their days there until their loved ones join them.”

“Is that…” Bilbo paused, watching the Prince warily. He wasn’t sure but he’d never heard of the Elvenking’s spouse or the Prince’s other parent. He’d never given much thought until this moment to their whereabouts. “Is that what happened to your…?”

“My mother?” Legolas seemed more amused by the hobbit’s flustering than anguished by his prying. “She was killed in battle when the last goblin army of Mordor attempted to find a holding in the Greenwood. I was very young, only three summers old when this happened and it has been many, many years since. She lived a satisfied life I’m told and she died honorably.”

Bilbo’s stomach dropped and he felt horrible for even mentioning it. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Legolas tilted his head in a sort of bow. “I do not mind talking about her if you are worried about distressing me. My memories of my mother are very fulfilling so there isn’t much pain any longer in discussing her.”

“I just– My own passed recently,” Bilbo found himself confessing, blinking away unexpected tears. “So I understand the pain of losing a mother. She was… she was a great woman, and, and…”

Surprisingly warm hands took hold of his and Legolas leaned down to be nearer. “Mister Baggins, I have no doubt your mother was a marvelous person if she was able to raise such an admirable son. It is alright to be sad because you miss her.”

A silent tear slipped down Bilbo’s cheek. “Some days I wake up and I think everything is alright, the day is beautiful, the birds are out singing, and my heart isn’t weighed down by the loss of her. Then, out of nowhere, I remember I’ll never see her again. It’s so horrible and I miss her, and it’s not fair that she’s gone.”      

“Oh Bilbo,” Legolas said softly, pulling the sobbing hobbit into his arms. “You’re correct, it’s not fair and you might hurt for a while because of her absence, but it’s alright to mourn her.”

“I can’t, I can’t…” Bilbo wailed, burying his face against the elf’s shoulder. Legolas’ arms were warm and comforting, holding him tightly like he knew Bilbo needed the closeness of another to reassure him. The pleasantly crisp scent of the Prince was also soothing. It reminded him of his garden back home, though he could hardly smell through the snot coming out his nose. It brought memories of a simpler time, of helping his mother and father plant seeds in the spring and sitting on the bench in the summer mornings and watching their patch bring forth life. His tears fell freely from his eyes, sticking his eyelashes together and dripping off his nose onto the elf’s nice clothing.

“Shh,” Legolas patted his back firmly, gently rocking the hobbit like a babe. “Let it out. I do not mind and I am grateful you would find me good enough to come to for support.”

And he did cry. Bilbo gave little thought to the fact that they were outside and in public, where everybody was probably watching them like a spectacle. His chest hurt and it took him a while to get his breathing under control, but the tears kept falling. He really did miss his mother, more than ever right now. He needed her, wanted her beside him as he dealt with his problems and triumphed over his fears, through the good time and the bad. He required her advice on how to deal with Thorin, wanted to hear her stories about her own great love, and have her shoulder to cry on when things didn’t work out like planned. 

Bilbo thought she would have been happy for him, to see him finally find his own special someone. He could still see her smiling face quite clearly in his memories, and even the recollection of her beaming smile waned by illness hadn’t dimmed that inner glow about her. Bilbo didn’t think anything but death could have quenched that. 

If she hadn’t have died, he could have seen how surprised and excited she would have been by all that had happened to him. She might have been initially shocked by Thorin’s desire to court her son, but she would have been compassionate enough to recognize how good they were for each other. She also would have liked the unruliness of the Company and invited them over for dinner as much as she could, even at the risk of her good crockery. 

There were similarities in them that Bilbo had seen in her. She was wise like Balin, adoring of her family like Glóin, mischievous like the Princes, a protective streak like Dwalin, good humored like Bofur, strong like Dori, with an appetite like Bombur, innocent like Ori,  sneaky like Nori, helpful like Óin, compassionate like Bifur, and just in every way comparable to the people he called friends. Even Thorin. Sometimes when he looked at Thorin, he saw that same inner greatness he remembered seeing in his mother from such a young age, when he’d sat at her feet and she’d told him stories of her adventures.    

It just wasn’t fair that she was gone.

Bilbo sniffed. His head hurt from the crying but he did feel somewhat better to get it out. It was almost like the loss had been waiting for him to be acknowledged, and once he had, he was better for it. He did still miss her and he was aware that he always would, but he knew his mother wouldn’t have wanted him to always be sad. She’d have wanted him happy and joyful, finding pleasure in the world around him and seeking out adventure.

Even now, her legacy was affecting him. He might not be where he was today if it wasn’t for her. He’d found his adventure alright, and it might not be the one he’d been expecting, but sometimes it’s not always the thing you were after that you find. His voyage might not be through the great wilds of Middle-Earth like hers had been, but rather the unexpected journey of falling in love with a dwarf King.

“I’m sorry. I’ve ruined your cloak,” the hobbit muttered, pulling back from Legolas’ gentle hug. Bilbo hadn’t anticipated himself just bursting out crying like he had, but something sympathetically kind in the elf had just broke him open. It was terrible of him to express his grief to someone he hardly knew and he hoped the Prince wouldn’t hold it against him. 

Legolas peered into Bilbo’s red-rimmed eyes, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “It is just clothes. What matters is that you are alright?”

“Yes, I am,” Bilbo whispered, stepping back on his own feet and rubbing his wet cheeks with his hands. “Thank you.”

Flushed from the heavy release of emotions, Bilbo noticed that everyone was visibly _not_ watching them except for Tauriel. Some of the hobbits appeared tense and they had their backs turned towards them as they continued working, seemingly wholly focused on their tasks with no notice to Bilbo’s outburst. The cheer that had earlier permeated the air had dimmed somewhat, and the hobbit felt regretful that he was the cause of it. Today was supposed to be a happy, merry day. 

Tauriel stepped up to them, taking the Prince‘s cloak from him without asking. “Everything alright here?”

“Yes, sorry,” Bilbo reassured her before Legolas could even open his mouth. “His highness was just comforting me from a sad memory.”

“Ah.” Tauriel shifted awkwardly as her heavy gaze moved towards the other elf instead. “I’d thought Legolas had said something to make you cry. I was going to tell his father if he had.”

Legolas groaned and slumped back into his chair. “Rat, why are you always trying to get me in trouble?”

Tauriel sniffed, swiping a ladybug from her sleeve and setting it on a nearby rose bush. “I hardly have to _try_. You get yourself into messes well enough. It’s just my duty to report them.” 

“ _Tattletale_ ,” the Prince mock-sang.

“I am _not!_ ” The elf maiden puffed up and stamped her foot. This seemed to be an old argument between them from the looks of it. 

“Oh yeah? Remember the caves, no, _remember_ _the swamp_? Who told Ada about that, although they’d sworn never to mention it again?”

Tauriel gritted her teeth and seethed, “You were missing half a head of hair! It was obvious something happened.”

“And you tattled on me like you hadn’t been the one to get us in the situation to begin with.”

“We were children,” the elf maid threw her hands up in frustrations. “And I was frightened! You might not be scared of him because he’s your father, but when the Elvenking calls you into his audience chamber and asks you in front of his council what happened to his only son, you’re going to tell him! Whether you promised or not.”

Legolas pointed at her, smirking. “So you admit, you squealed like a pig.”  

Tauriel huffed, looking about ready to box the Prince over the ear. “Fine, if that’s how you want to see it then yes. But you can’t fault me for the incident in the Old Ford, and since we’re talking about it, maybe Mister Baggins would like to hear why you dislike bees so much.”

“You wouldn’t,” Legolas exclaimed.

The other elf put her hands on her hips and stared snootily down at him. “I might, if you keep accusing me of being a gossip and tattletale.”

They acted so much like two children fighting over their parent’s attention that Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh wetly. To witness such graceful creatures acting silly, it was an eye opener. He couldn’t have imagined them being just like everybody else, acting immature and quarreling over inane reasons. If he hadn’t seen it for himself, he might never have believed it. 

The two were carrying on while he was musing to himself, both their arms flailing as they argued their version of the story.

“Do you not agree with me, Mister Baggins?” Legolas turned to garner Bilbo’s attention, arms sweeping from the hobbit to the elf maiden. “She’s worse than Mithrandir, sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong and then being unclear with her account of the incident.”    

“I do not!” Tauriel squawked, cheeks flushing as pink as her dress. “How dare you say such things about the respectable Istari. To call him a– an eavesdropper _and_ a _meddler_! Shame on you, Legolas Greenleaf!” 

“Ah well,” Bilbo looked between the two, both eager for the hobbit to agree with them over the other. “I’m sure Gandalf is the way he is for a reason.” 

Legolas grinned triumphantly. 

Bilbo continued, “But, you can’t fault Miss Tauriel for doing her job either. If your father asked her to report your actions to him, you cannot be angry with her for doing so.”

“Ha!” The elf maiden stuck her nose in the air and crossed her arms. She seemed quite done with the Prince and ready to storm off to better company. 

The Prince stuck his tongue out at her anyways. “Mister Baggins still likes me better than you.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as Tauriel’s smirk suddenly turned wicked. “Really?”

Sitting up straight, Legolas appeared concerned. “Yes. Why?”

“Not telling,” Tauriel teased, flouncing off in a whirl of silk skirts. Falco soon materialized at her side, pulling the elf maid over to inspect the carving knife they were going to use later on the boar. She tested it like a sword, checking its balance and serration, looking for any damage to the blade. It must have somehow been lacking though, because Tauriel reached under her dress and pulled out an even larger knife she had worn strapped to her thigh. Falco about fainted in excitement, eyes bugging out as he watch the elf flip the blade from hand to hand with ease.

“Show off,” Legolas muttered, mock-glaring after Tauriel.    

Rose eventually noticed they were done with their assignments and came over to collect the finished fruits. She blushed and thanked Legolas, telling him his help was appreciated. Then she turned to ask Bilbo if she could borrow his oven for some pastries that were ready for baking, since Bag End was nearby and the baker’s was completely full.

“Of course, my dear,” Bilbo agreed quickly as he helped put the mashed raspberry jam into a jar and seal it. Legolas found some loose ribbon and tied a bow around the lid for decoration.

Rose helped him haul the pan of pastries to be cooked up to Bag End, while Legolas went to help Drogo with some of the flower arrangements. The elf probably wouldn’t have fit in the hobbit-hole any better than Gandalf had, and this way Bilbo had time to change into his party clothes without having to entertain guests.

“Are you alright?” The lass asked once they were alone.

Getting tired of repeating himself, Bilbo was a bit irked when he snapped a “Yes” at her.

Rose hunched her shoulders, looking at her hairy feet as Bilbo took the pans from her and set them in the oven to bake. It wouldn’t be too long, maybe half an hour before they were ready.

Knowing he shouldn’t have taken his anger out on the hobbit lass for something she hadn’t done, Bilbo grabbed her sleeve before she could slip away. “Sorry, I’m not– We were talking of my mother.”

Clear green eyes peered up at him through curled lashes. “Your mother, Misses Belladonna Baggins?” 

Bilbo resisted rolling his eyes, for whom else would he be talking about, and nodded his head instead. He felt tetchy and tired from his crying. If he had the time he’d take a nap to rejuvenate his mood a bit before the party began, otherwise he feared he wouldn’t be good company tonight. But since he didn’t, he’d have to deal with it and maybe have some tea out on the back porch as an alternative, just to calm his nerves somewhat.

Rose put a hand on his shoulder, “We all miss her, maybe you more than anybody, but don’t think we’ve forgotten her. I always enjoyed her stories, about trolls and eagles, and especially elves. The Shire lost a marvelous hobbit the day she passed. If you need someone to talk to, well, I’m here.”

“I know.” Bilbo’s heart lightened, thankful for the support. “Thank you.” Sometimes he forgot that just because Belladonna was a Took, and therefore not as respectable as a Baggins, that didn’t mean people hadn’t looked up to her regardless still. She might had been considered an odd hobbit, but she had been admired none-the-less. 

It was nice to know he had someone to come to, even if it wasn’t someone he‘d expected. He’d almost forgotten that his mother had told her stories to others besides him. He remembered now that at any festival or party she could have been found with a cluster of children in a variety of ages sitting around her knees, listening to her stories, watching in awe as she told her tales of great wizards and heroic Kings.

“My mother always said I should be more like her,” Rose continued on, pulling her hand back quickly and twisting her fingers in her hair. “She said if I’d been more like that ‘remarkable Belladonna Took’ I wouldn’t have lost Lambo to that horrid Robin Goold. She thinks I should have fought harder for him, to show Lambo how much he had really meant to me and not given up like I had. But I don’t think it works that way. It didn’t make sense to me to fight for him when he was already walking out on me. It was all one-sided, and I didn’t have the heart to put in any effort where he didn’t.”  

“Miss Burrows, you don’t have to explain this to me,” Bilbo said bewildered. “I was always on your side. Robin shouldn’t have done that to you, especially since you called her friend.”

“No, you’re right, I don’t have to explain to you, but I’d like to. You’ve always been so understanding and nice, no matter one’s reputation,” Rose stated, rubbing her cheeks to stave off crying. Bilbo wondered what was about today that incited tears, and worried for what the rest of the day had in store for them. 

“I saw you dancing with that dwarf yesterday,” Rose confessed suddenly. “You looked happy. You both did.”

“We are,” Bilbo said softly, pulling the trembling hobbit lass into his arms for a hug. “And someday you’ll find someone to make you happy too. Someone better than Lambo.”

“Yeah?” Rose sniffed against his collar. “Pa reckon’s I couldn’t have done better than him, says I’ll have to settle for a farmer or a gardener next time, if Lambo doesn’t take me back.”

Bilbo sniffed, insulted. “There isn’t anything wrong with a farmer or gardener. They are perfectly respectable professions if you ask me. And your father has no room to talk, as he was a farm hand before your mother came around. You only take back that cad if you want to, and only if he comes crawling back to you begging for forgiveness.”  

Rose laughed softly against his shoulder, her tiny hands clutching his waistcoat tightly. “This is why I like you, Mister Baggins, you’re smart and reasonable. You’ll make a good parent one day, just like your mother.”

She might as well have kicked him in the gut in how she knocked the breath right out of him. He was so stunned by her admission for he’d never given it much thought. 

“I… thanks,” Bilbo said softly. “If you need someone to talk to, my door‘s always open.”

Rose yanked herself back and frowned at the mess she’d left all over the other hobbit. “Oh goodness, look at me, ruining your clothes like that.”

Now Bilbo knew how Legolas had felt minutes before. He really wasn’t worried about his clothes, not to mention he’d planned to change anyways. He was more concerned with the hobbit lass wiping the last of her tears away with her apron. “It’s fine. Do you need a handkerchief, maybe some tea?”

She flushed, probably embarrassed by crying on him like she had. “No, no, it’s okay, I’m– ”

“ _What’s this_ ,” a hard voice growled from the open door, startling both hobbits. Rose squeaked and hid behind Bilbo, letting the other hobbit take the brunt of the dwarf’s glare. 

“Mister Dwalin,” Bilbo sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get that quiet moment on the back porch now. “Stop standing there like a scarecrow and come inside, you’re making me nervous.”

The dwarf grumbled under his breath, but did what was asked. He amazingly took his shoes off at the entrance without being asked and set his two large hammers against the wall out of the way, though. Bilbo’s influence didn’t seem to be limited to just Thorin. 

Dwalin stomped bare footed towards the two hobbits, staring intently at how close they were to each other. “Here Thorin was worried about elves and instead he should have been concerned about the neighbors trying to steal his Hobbit. Who’s the girl?”

“What are you accusing me of?” Rose spoke up, her bravery only giving her enough courage to peek over Bilbo’s shoulder and scowl at the dwarf. “Mister Baggins, who’s this roughian?”

“Rose Burrows, this is Mister Dwalin,” Bilbo said, introducing the two. “Mister Dwalin, Rose Burrows. We’re working on getting things ready for the party tonight. What are you doing here?”

Dwalin snorted, coming to stand over the two hobbits and glare down at them. “Thorin sent me.”

“For?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow, not in the least intimidated by him.

The dwarf’s lip twitched, like he was fighting to keep his expression blank. “I’m here to guard you.”

Rose giggled hysterically against his back. 

“From what?” Bilbo asked, resigned to his fate. He had a feeling he knew what this was about and he was going to have a long talk with Thorin tomorrow, once he had the chance. 

“ _Elves_ , what else,” Dwalin answered, sneering back towards the door with a look of utmost disgust.

“Oh dear,” Rose whispered. Bilbo couldn’t help but agree.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I oddly learned some interesting facts about elves and their sex lives at this site: http://www.ansereg.com/what_tolkien_officially_said_abo.htm. I never knew they were so into hair for one thing, that’s kind of fascinating. Especially considering how dwarves are into beards (and for the most part hobbits into feet hair). I also got the information about elves from: http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Elven_Life_cycle.   
> Also, there is NOTHING on Legolas’ mother from Tolkien or any official source. So I made her story up. I made her into a warrior who died in battle, since I couldn’t see her sailing off to Valinor. I can’t imagine Thranduil staying in Middle-Earth as long as he did if she was just across the sea. Even though the one ring and Sauron’s gone, the orcs, goblins, and fractions of Mordor’s defeated armies are still sort of about and they do target attacks here and there to try to get a footing like they once had, with little success. They just aren’t as prominent as we’re use to.


	26. Spoons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin ‘guards’ Bilbo from the others’ increasing advancements towards the hobbit. Bilbo thinks everything and everyone is ridiculous.

****

 

After Rose ran off it was just Bilbo and Dwalin left in Bag End, and the two were staring each other down.

“So…” Bilbo made a motion towards the door.

Dwalin sighed heavily, totally unimpressed by Bilbo’s attempted wheedling. “I’m not leaving.”

“Why not?” Bilbo groaned and resisted stomping his foot.

“I said why and I won’t go back on my word to Thorin. Besides, I already canceled my plans with Ori and we’re having the picnic another day.” Dwalin walked past the hobbit to look into the oven, sniffing loudly and licking his lips. “Smells good.”

“Of _course_ it does!” Bilbo said as he threw up his arms in frustration. It was surprising to find out that Dwalin and Ori had gotten so far in their own courtship, but he was rather stuck on the matter of getting the dwarf to leave. Thorin should feel ashamed for forcing the guard to cancel his rendezvous only because the King was being jealous. Bilbo would be perfectly fine with the elves on his own. “I won’t tell Thorin if you have other things to do. Wouldn’t you rather be spending your day with Ori?”

“Aye.”

“So why are you still here?”

Dwalin sent Bilbo a withering look. “Our plans are already canceled. As I said.”

Bilbo just didn’t understand dwarves sometimes. Dwalin grumbled and groaned about having to watch him, but refused to leave when the hobbit gave him the chance. He now understood why hobbits generally didn’t deal with dwarves: they just weren’t a sensible lot.

“So?”

“I’m staying.”

There really was no getting around the dwarf when he was being stubborn, so it would best to either go along with it or find a way to trick him out of it later. He’d have to wait until Dwalin’s guard was down at the very least. “Well if you’re going to be _guarding_ me all day, the least you can do is help out.”   

Dwalin glared at him from under his bushy eyebrows. “And what would you have me do?”

Bilbo put his hands on his hips and glared right back. “You can watch those pastries while I get ready, make sure they don’t burn.”

“Fine.”

Bilbo shook a finger at him. “And no opening the oven until they are ready.”

The dwarf rolled his eyes. “Just _go_.” 

The clothes he’d planned to wear for the party were already set out. It was one of his nicer outfits, as a visit from the Elvenking ranked pulling out the better quality clothing for the occasion. A smart, short purple jacket with bronze acorn buttons, a light red waistcoat patterned with gold flower and a new pair of black trousers were perfect for the event. He scrubbed his hands and face clean, combed the hair on his feet and head, and re-braided Thorin’s braid before he started to undress.

As he dressed, Bilbo thought about Thorin. As taken as he was with the dwarf, he didn’t understand Thorin’s sudden insistence to send Dwalin to guard him. It was just preposterous to assume that the hobbit was in any danger from the elves. So unless Thorin wasn’t hiding some unknown danger from him it didn’t make any sense. There wasn’t any way Thranduil and his people would turn aggressive; it would be out of character and suicidal to try anything on Erebor’s doorstep. 

Bilbo was going to have to have a long talk with the dwarf. Some of his behavior was just unacceptable in certain situations. Thranduil could take the appearance of guards as an insult and might believe that the hobbits in general didn’t trust him. It could ruin any future relations between the races. Bilbo would just have to find a way to excuse Dwalin’s presence without upsetting the elven party for tonight. Maybe explain the situation more if it came up in conversation. 

If Bilbo hadn’t been preoccupied about the argument he was planning for Thorin – a long list on why he still thought Thorin a simpleton whether he was a King or not – Bilbo might’ve been in a better frame of mind to notice the sudden company watching him.

“Hello there, Mister Bilbo,” Bofur’s cheery face peered through the open window.

Bilbo yelled, startled into grabbing the blanket off his bed and covering his naked chest.

“ _Oops_ , sorry lad,” the dwarf winced. “Didn’t mean to impinge.” 

“ _Bofur!_ ” Bilbo squeaked, blushing furiously. Had the dwarf been watching him while he’d changed this whole time? Didn’t he have any sense of decency? Why didn’t he knock on the front door like a normal person?

There was a loud bang from somewhere down the hall and abruptly the bedroom door was kicked in. The hobbit’s heart about jumped out of his chest in shocked surprise as Dwalin charged into the room and snarled violently, wielding his hammer and whirling wildly around the room looking for the attacker.

Somehow, Bilbo didn’t think this incident would work in his favor to reinforce the opinion of not needing a guard. Bilbo wouldn’t be surprised if Thorin would start sending guards to patrol his garden at night from now on.

Bofur made a gurgling sound and quickly ducked out of view. Sadly, the fuzzy brim of his hat was still visible as he tried to creep off and Dwalin pounced forward onto the bed, reaching through the window and snagging the other dwarf by the back of his collar before he could run away.

Dwalin snarled something in Khuzdul and Bofur froze.

“I am _not!_ ”

“Then why are you here?”

The miner kicked out, holding tight to his hat as he dangled from Dwalin’s grip. “I was just wanting to visit the lad, I hadn’t seen him in a while! Nothing untoward, I promise!”

Bilbo watched them disbelievingly, shocked that Dwalin was standing on his bed with his arms through the open window and holding another dwarf. Couldn’t they do this interrogation somewhere more proper like the kitchen or something? Dwalin was leaving dirty footprints all over his white sheets. 

Dwalin gave a loud snort, “Why are you sneaking around like a burglar and peeking in the hobbit’s window as he changes then?”

Bofur’s cheeks pinkened a little. “I was coming up from the training fields, working my way around to the front when I thought I heard something. Was just going to give the lad a small scare.”  

“I was getting _undressed_ ,” Bilbo yelled, frowning at Bofur’s admission. 

Both the dwarves seemed to finally notice the hobbit’s state and couldn’t figure out if they should look at him or each other until Dwalin noticed Bofur’s gaze pausing too long on the hobbit and hit the dwarf over the head for his staring. 

“That’s Thorin’s _intended_ your gawking at.”

Bofur rubbed his sore head, “Yesh, I know. Don’t mean I can’t _look_.”

“Yes, it does,” Bilbo and Dwalin said simultaneously. The hobbit was scandalized by his friend’s admittance. Bofur looked ready to make a joke until Dwalin dropped him. The miner landed on his rump out of sight, moaning about mistreatment as Dwalin dusted off his hands and jumped off the bed. 

“I’ll handle him,” the dwarf announced, looking somewhere over Bilbo’s shoulder and not directly at him. “You finish what you were doing. And, um… sorry about the door.”

 Bilbo watched halfway towards amazed as the guard marched over the splintered remains of his bedroom door. The dwarf paused for only a moment to remove the one large chunk still clinging desperately to the hinges and leaned it against the wall instead. It stayed for a moment before it gave up the fight and slid down to clatter against the hardwood floor along with the rest of his door, splitting in two as it hit, scratching the flooring.

The hobbit glared. “You’re going to _pay_ for that.”

The dwarf shrugged, “Take it up with Thorin.”

Bilbo was ready to protest but then Bofur could be heard hollering something from the front porch and Dwalin stormed away without another word. Bilbo rubbed his forehead and wondered if it would be too much to ask for asylum with Thranduil in the Greenwood, maybe to get away from the troublesome business of entertaining dwarves for a day or so.    

He finished getting dressed, tossing on a white shirt and quickly buttoning his waistcoat. He threw the coat over his shoulder and hurried down the hall to check on the pastries, since he figured Dwalin had forgotten them in his rampage to defend Bilbo’s honor. 

As he passed the front door he scoffed, “Let him in, Mister Dwalin.”

The guard was using his own body to barricade Bofur’s entrance. Dwalin muttered something under his breath in Khuzdul that had the other dwarf turning paler by the second.

Rolling his eyes, the hobbit reached under Dwalin’s arms and tugged Bofur inside, the dwarf’s hat almost falling off when it brushed the guard’s arm.  “Come in and shut the door. He won’t hurt you unless he has a good reason.”

“I _have_ a good reason,” Dwalin sneered, following after them. 

Bofur was forced to follow behind Bilbo or risk Dwalin stomping all over him as they traveled back into the kitchen. “Not him I’m really worried about now, thanks for that. So what’s all them elves doing down in the valley if I might ask?”

Dwalin forced the other dwarf into the seat farthest away from Bilbo before he took his own seat in front of the oven and beside the hobbit. Bofur sighed heavily, but seemed resigned to the guards manhandling and didn’t put up any fuss to the seating arrangement, though it meant he had to holler across the table just to be heard.

Bilbo checked on the pastries and saw that they needed a few more minutes. “The Elvenking Thranduil and his delegation will be spending the evening in celebration with the hobbits of the Shire. I invited them in the hopes to improve relations and maybe get a few trade agreements in place.”

“Ya know,” Bofur gave Dwalin a smirk. “Some things are suddenly making sense.”

“Yes, well,” Bilbo sniffed, “I’m putting you to use since you’re here.”

“What?” Bofur blinked in surprise.

Bilbo wagged his finger at the dwarf. “You were coming over here to cause trouble. So I’m going to head you off before you start.”

 “Was not,” the miner pouted. 

He might not have known Bofur as well as some dwarves like Thorin, but Bilbo knew him well enough to know the dwarf’s character. If there was trouble, Bofur was usually to be found somewhere in the middle of it and sometimes to be the cause of it. Playing innocent wouldn’t help, Bilbo just knew that Bofur wasn’t as ignorant of the elves’ visit as he let on.

“Enough of that,” Bilbo said. “I don’t mind you visiting, though I’m awfully too busy today to entertain you. So we’ll work around that. I have some things that need to be done for the party and I’ll invite you along with me as long as you promise not to be a nuisance. You can even stay once the festivities begin.”

Bofur tried not to be disturbed by Dwalin’s glowering. “Um… sure?”

“Good,” Bilbo nodded. “Now if you’d be so kind as to head to my garden and pick some of the tomatoes, I need them for a salad I’m making for the feast. And only get the ones that are ripe! I still have to enter some in the harvest contest a few weeks from now.”

“Salad,” Bofur groaned, “Can’t ya make those pies you’re so good at? Salads are horrid a meal for any purpose! Surely ya can think of something else.”

Bilbo wrinkled his nose. He actually hadn’t even thought of making one of his infamous pies. Maybe because he’d gotten so used to makeing them for Thorin that it would almost feel like a betrayal to make them for someone else? He felt silly for the notion but in many ways the apple pies had been the beginning of the bond between Thorin and him. It would almost feel disrespectful to then make the pies for someone Thorin didn’t even like, though Bilbo had nothing against the elves themselves. 

Dwalin stood suddenly, the chair scraping against the floor loudly. His face was half in shadow as he towered over the hobbit who gaped up at him, afraid for a moment that the dwarf was angry for some reason. Then Dwalin turned and opened the oven, reaching in barehanded and pulling the hot cooking sheet out to set the finished pastries on the kitchen counter.

“ _Oh!_ ” Bilbo blinked. “Thank you.”

Dwalin shrugged, “You said to watch them.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Bilbo stood up to inspect them. They really were done, the edges a perfectly crisp golden brown and the fruit filling just barely starting to ooze out from between the cooked dough. It smelled heavenly, but they were also a reminder that he needed to hurry. The party would be starting soon and the others would be expecting the treats to be set up before the delegation arrived.

“Bofur,” Bilbo pointed at the dwarf. “Tomatoes, now! Dwalin, grab the large bowl on the top shelf in the pantry.”

The dwarves rushed to do his bidding as Bilbo pulled out the rest of the ingredients he’d put aside this morning for the salad. He’d boiled some eggs and sliced some bits of ham into small cubes. The spinach leaves still needed to be washed but he could do that quickly while he waited for Dwalin to bring the bowl. The lettuce, cucumbers and diced carrots were already mixed and ready to be added.

Bilbo was just dropping the sliced tomatoes when someone knocked on the door.

“Can you get that, Mister Dwalin?” Bilbo turned to shake his wooden salad fork at him. “No scaring them off. Let them in and tell them I’ll be a moment. I’m almost done.”

With a dejected sigh, Dwalin marched over to open the door. To everyone’s surprise it was Tauriel, the elf frowning when she caught sight of the dwarf instead of the expected occupant.

“Is Mister Baggins here?” She asked cautiously, easily looking over the dwarf’s head and around the hobbit-hole. Her expression was that of open wonder, like she‘d never seen the inside of a hobbit’s home before. “I was sent to help him carry the pastries back.”

“Tauriel!” Bilbo shouted, waving her in despite Dwalin’s mutterings. She had to bend her knees to not bash her head on the ceiling and barely avoided the chandelier that Gandalf always seemed to hit. “Come in, come in. I’m almost ready. Bofur, the pepper, please.”

Bilbo finished up his salad as quickly as possible while Bofur and Tauriel made introductions. Thankfully the miner seemed less antagonistic towards the elf as Dwalin was because they seemed to get along fine. In fact they were laughing over something that happened yesterday at the games when Bilbo washes his hands a final time and picked up his bowl of salad.

“I’m ready. Will someone get the pastries?”

Dwalin snagged the pans before anybody else could reach for them, glaring at the others as if to deter any attempts to steal them from him. Bilbo rolled his eyes and hurried them outside. Already there were a few more elves present than there had been earlier. Bilbo and his group walked down the path to the field around the same time Bell Gamgee stepped out of her home, Bofur jumping forward to help her with her famous bowl of roasted rosemary potatoes. 

Bell stared at Tauriel with a wondrous expression before running up to whisper loudly in Bilbo’s ear. “Isn’t this just amazing! Elves, in the Shire!”

Bilbo bit his lips to stop from smiling. He had a feeling Dwalin might tattle on him if he seemed too enthused by the elves visit. “Yes, they really are such a fair race. Wait until you see the Elvenking,” Bilbo whispered quietly back, hoping the dwarves hadn’t heard. “He’s just as regal and handsome as you can imagine.”

“Oh Eru, bless us,” Bell sighed, unaware of Bofur’s amused expression. “This is going to be such a wonderful evening. My Hamfast is so excited! He’s always wanted to talk to an elf.”

Tauriel stepped forward as if summoned, smiling kindly down at the hobbit lass. “We are equally as excited, I must inform you. My kin and I have not had many chances to convene with hobbits. I’m afraid the dwarves have jealously guarded your race for many years. So this is just as much an opportunity for us as it is for you.”

Dwalin reached for his hammer with one hand but luckily Bofur intervened before anybody else could notice. Bilbo was suddenly glad that the dwarf had stopped by for a visit, if only because he could handle Dwalin when his anger got a hold of him.

Bell laughed. “Oh goodness, I wouldn’t think so. The dwarves are such wonderful company though. Why, Mister Baggins’ suitor is a dwarf and he’s a magnificent character. He is a kind fellow, who’s greatly taken with my respectable neighbor.” Bell gave Bilbo a wink. 

“Aye, does help that he‘s rich, too,” Bofur added.

Dwalin elbowed the other dwarf. “Shouldn’t matter if he’s rich or not, just that he’s a great warrior and willing to protect what’s his.” Dwalin gave Tauriel a look of warning.

Bofur chimed in, “He’s also a fine craftsman. I’ve seen the pieces he’s done while he was an apprentice blacksmith. Amazing stuff, really. Master Jari would have to watch out if our dwarf didn’t already have a job.” 

“I hadn’t known Mister Baggins’ was being courted,” Tauriel turned to raise an eyebrow at the hobbit in question. “Does this dwarf have a name? Surely a character with such a reputable nature is known not only in the Mountain. Is he one of the King’s guards or council men?”  

“He would be Thorin Oakenshield himself!” Bofur said cheerfully before Bilbo could answer, smiling wildly as the elf stumbled.

Tauriel’s expression froze for only a second before it cleared. “Ah, yes. The King.”

Bell looked bewildered at everyone. “Are we not keeping his status a secret anymore?”

“I’m afraid not,” Bilbo sighed. As easier as it was to keep Thorin’s rank in the kingdom hidden, it just wouldn’t be practical anymore. It was bad enough keeping up with who knew and who didn’t. Hobbits would ask about the dwarf he brought to Lobelia’s party and question him on their courting, wanting to know if Thorin was worthy of him. He didn’t blame them for being curious and they had a right to know some basic facts about the dwarf. If Bilbo lied and they found out later that Thorin was King, they’d hold it against him. 

Bilbo also figured it would be smart to pull the head of his clan aside tonight and tell her the whole story, that way she wouldn’t get confused with rumors or half-truths that were invariably going to get around. 

Their group arrived at the venue just as Gildor Inglorion, the visiting Noldorian elf, rushed forward, his arms full of hobbit children, a few even hanging off his shoulders and legs.

“Tauriel, _look!_ Have you ever seen so many?” Gildor asked overly ecstatic. Bilbo wouldn’t have expected him to have such an excited temperament, considering how lethal he was with a sword. Then again Thorin looked just as stern, yet he was sometimes so sweet it bordered on saccharine. “And they are so tiny too, like bunnies!”

Olo’s head popped over the warrior elf’s shoulder. “ _Bunnies_!” He said scandalized, and then he caught sight of his favorite elf. “Oh, _Tauriel!_ ” He screamed, right in Gildor’s ear.    

Tauriel took a step back, like she was looking for a quick escape but Bofur and Dwalin’s bulks blocked her exit. “Ah, h-hello, Mister Proudfoot. How are you?”

“I’m great, now that you are here,” Olo beamed. Gildor tried valiantly not to laugh. 

Bell and Bilbo shared a look. Someone would have to tell Odo to watch his son, or Olo might become too bothersome for the elf maid to handle. 

Gildor turned towards the hobbits and gave an awkward bow, the children giggling as Olo took the moment to slip off. “Good day, I am Gildor Inglorian. I thank you for inviting me to your humble village.”

Bell blushed, admiring the elf’s muscles as they bulged from holding the children. The warrior was really quite beautiful, like most elves. Only instead of the usual blond hair and blue eyes, the Noldorian elf had long brown hair tied up in a ponytail and dark, hazel eyes. He also wore a simple grey tunic and black trousers instead of the embroidered long robes, which worked in his favor as to the many sticky-hand children climbing all over him. “Y-yes, well, um, hello yourself. My name is Bell Gamgee. I’m married.”

Bilbo jerked back and stared at his neighbor.

Bell flushed, “Um, I just meant I’m married, to Hamfast Gamgee.” She pointed towards the tables, where her husband was sitting back with two elves smoking pipe-weed. 

“And I am Bilbo Baggins,” Bilbo said evenly, turning back to greet the elf. “I saw you in the tournaments the other day. You did really well and I enjoyed watching you fight.”

“Ah,” Gildor scratched his nose bashfully. “I lost, but I thank you for the compliment.”

Tauriel, who was trying not to let Olo’s enthusiasm to hold her hand get to her, stepped forward with an uncomfortable smile. “Actually Gildor, you lost to Mister Baggins’ intended.”

The elf warrior raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Dwalin pushed forward unexpectedly and growled, “Where do the pastries go? My arms are getting tired of holding them.”

Even though he knew Dwalin likely just wanted to get away from the conversation, Bilbo gave Gildor their excuses, promising to talk later, and showed the dwarf where to put the desserts. Rose was there, adding whipped cream to the pumpkin tarts, and she seemed more relaxed at the dwarf’s presence than she was earlier. 

“Hello again,” she chirped, taking the pastries from the pan and setting them on a large tiered serving platter. “You made it just in time, I heard the Elvenking will be here soon.”

Bell showed Bofur where to set the potatoes and took Bilbo’s salad and placed it next to the fruit bowl. Once done she waved the dwarf off and then hurried back to help with the desserts. “Oh, can you believe it? I’m so excited!”

Rose leaned forward eagerly, “I know, me too!”

“How come they’re never this excited when we visit?” Bofur muttered towards Dwalin, just out of earshot. The other dwarf grunted, staring balefully back towards the Mountain like he was contemplating having _words_ with Thorin at a later date.   

Bilbo was soon distracted by helping with the finishing touches. Dwalin and Bofur headed over to Hamfast’s group to smoke, the guard keeping a close eye on his charge, though Bilbo seemed to be running everywhere at once. One of Bilbo’s cousins had lost the napkins, so there was a big search for them before they were found under the table in a box. Then it was discovered there wasn’t enough silverware and Mistress Chubb sent her son back to her house for her mother-in-law’s set, since she never used them and said they were of a ghastly design that she wouldn’t be bothered if a piece or two went missing. The flower arrangements were only half finished, because Drogo had gotten distracted with teaching some elves the game of conkers, and Bilbo hurriedly finished the centerpieces before the rest of the elves arrived. 

The hobbit was panting by the end of it, taking a short break as he watched the cooks wheel the main dishes up and set them out on the banquet table. The boar was taking the center piece. Four roast gooses and two honey glazed hams added to the already laden down table, with dishes and recipes from the other hobbits joining them for the party. It all looked rather magnificent and if Bilbo’s stomach hadn’t been rumbling in hunger he might have felt bad about wanting to eat it all.    

A shout went out across the valley and the children dropped from Gildor and hurried towards the main road. The rest of the hobbits paused in their work and Dwalin got up to join Bilbo at the entrance to the field, everyone stopping to watch the procession. The dwarf was standing close to the hobbit’s back as they observed the Mirkwood delegation trickle in.  

Thranduil walked serenely down the cobblestone path, leading a leisurely march of elves towards the party tree like he was leading a parade. The Elvenking himself was dressed up in a beautiful long red velour coat, a green robe underneath with gold embellishing. His long blond hair fluttered behind him like a golden cape and his skin glowed milk-white in the sun. Instead of the odd crown he’d worn the last time Bilbo had seen him, Thranduil wore a circlet much like the Prince’s, except there were vines and sprigs of red currants weaved throughout it. He greeted every hobbit he passed and even inclined his head in a sort of bow when Paladin rushed forward to greet him.  

“G-good day, Lord– _King!_ King of the Woodland Realm of Northern Mirkwood,” the Thain stuttered, pulling out a note from his pocket to read from nervously. “Elvenking Thranduil, the Shire – and all the citizens in it  – welcome you to our feast. We have prepared a banquet of all the best treats our town has to offer and w-we hope you and your people enjoy your time h-here.”

“I’m sure I will,” Thranduil replied, looking out over the crowd gathered to watch him. “I am sorry for my tardiness, I had originally meant to be here earlier.”

“Oh no!” Paladin shook his head. “You are not late, you are just on time! Perfect timing really, I think the goose has just finished roasting and–  ah, _Bilbo!_ ”

Paladin had spotted the other hobbit in the mob and waved him forward anxiously. “Here’s Mister Baggins, I’m sure you remember him.”

“Indeed I do,” Thranduil smiled for the first time and it practically transformed his face. Instead of looking like expertly carved marble he appeared real and fleshy, his smile welcoming and stunning. Rose and Bell both sighed dreamily, and even Porto made a wheezing noise like his breath had left him. Bilbo himself could feel his ears turn red as he shuffled towards the King, Dwalin close behind him.

“Good day, King Thranduil, welcome to the Shire,” Bilbo bowed his head in greeting.

Thranduil set a hand on his shoulder, “Please, just Thranduil will do, Mister Baggins.” He cocked his head to the side and his hair fell like a silver waterfall over his shoulder. “I would like if you could consider me a friend, though we are not very well acquainted. I think this could be the start of a wonderful relationship between us… and the Greenwood to the Shire.” The last part was added as if an afterthought.  

Bilbo blushed. “Then I insist you call me Bilbo, as all my friends do.”

“Of course,” the Elvenking practically beamed, his hand squeezing gently down on Bilbo’s shoulder. 

Dwalin made an odd, strangled sound behind him but Bilbo ignored him. With Paladin’s announcement over, the children advanced, asking questions and curiously inspecting the tall elves like overexcited puppies given a new treat. The elves themselves took it all rather well, appearing just as interested in the small curly haired youths as the children were in them. Even Thranduil appeared thrilled, in his own stoic way, at the sight of so many of them and Bilbo started to wonder if elf children were rare in Mirkwood. He knew that dwarves considered births a blessing, as it was infrequent and uncommon to be gifted with a large family.    

Little Seredic Brandybuck tugged on the Elvenking’s sleeve, motioning him down to whisper in his pointed ear. “Are you really a thousand years old?”

Thranduil kneeled and gave the small boy a mournful look. “No. I am older.”

Seredic’s eyes went wide. “ _Really!_ How old?”

“I was born at the end of the First Age, so I am older than even the Shire.”

The young hobbit looked towards Bilbo for confirmation.

“It was a _really long_ time ago,” Bilbo supplied. “Now let’s not be rude and let our guest have a seat. Aren’t you getting hungry?”

Food could distract any hobbit and this time was no different. Seredic was able to rabble all the other children together to charge the banquet table, hopping around it in circles like an ambushing band of weasels as Rose and Ponto fended them off. Saradoc Brandybuck was able to steal a plateful of cookies and the unruly mass convened on him like a pack of wild animals, crumbs flying everywhere and children crying out until parents were called in to resolve things. 

“Sorry about that,” Bilbo said, cringing at the mess.

Thranduil got to his feet smoothly, not even bothering to dust off the dirt on his rich robe. “It is fine. My son Legolas was worse when he was that age. Always asking strangers impertinent questions and getting into trouble.” The elf suddenly smiled somberly, “He once asked one of the Istari why he was so old looking if he was immortal. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Saruman so taken aback and Gandalf couldn’t stop laughing for weeks.”

Bilbo smothered a laugh behind his hand. “Oh goodness, that must‘ve been embarrassing.”

Thranduil shrugged. “He was a curious child. I cannot fault him for that.”

“Yes, well,” Bilbo shuffled his feet. “Are you hungry too? The food really is ready.”

“Of course,” Thranduil agreed, walking beside the hobbit as they headed towards the feast, Dwalin following after them. They kept up a simple conversation as they filled their plates, Bilbo asking about how his visit had been and the King answering. Legolas and Tauriel got in line behind them, the two elves bickering over the Prince’s plate full of sweets before Thranduil shot them a look and they quieted down. 

“Um,” Bilbo paused, taking a seat near the end of the table, leaving the head of the table for the King to sit. Dwalin of course took the empty place beside the hobbit, and Legolas sat across from him and beside his father. “I hope you weren’t held up because of business in the Mountain.”

Thranduil raised a cool eyebrow as he tucked the napkin into his collar. “Prince Thorin did attempt to stall me, but Gandalf distracted him so I was able to escape with little fuss.”

Dwalin bit fiercely into his veal and grumbled unintelligibly under his breath. Bilbo elbowed him discreetly, wishing the dwarf wouldn’t be so rude. 

The movement though caught the King’s attention and he gave Dwalin a searching look. “I don’t believe we’ve met formally, though we have been in each other’s presence before.”

Bofur sat his plate loudly beside the guard, startling Bilbo. “That’s ‘cause he’s King Thorin’s guard. He’s been tasked with watching his intended for the day.” The miner stuffed a sausage in his mouth and chewed messily. “Nothing against ya, Thorin’s just paranoid someone might seduce his hobbit out from under his nose.”

“ _Bofur!_ ” Bilbo cried out, scandalized.

Thranduil sat back in his seat and surveyed the three of them. “Is that so?”

Legolas leaned cautiously towards his father. “Ada, Bilbo was the hobbit I helped find the engagement stick for,” the Prince turned to inquire towards the hobbit. “The lovespoon, right? How is it coming along?”

Blushing furiously under their penetrating gaze, Bilbo took a gulp of wine to delay answering. 

“Lovespoon?” Bofur asked intrigued, leaning forward to look around Dwalin at the hobbit. “What’s a lovespoon?” 

“Oh! Bilbo’s making a lovespoon!” His uncle Bingo Baggins shouted from down the table. “Who’s the lucky young man – was it that dwarf here yesterday for the wedding? Nice lad, great dancer, too. Can’t hold his liquor though is what I heard.”

“ _Uncle_ ,” Bilbo groaned, burying his head in his arms. Most of the table started laughing, except Dwalin and Thranduil who both sat stiffly beside him. This really wasn’t how he had wanted to make the announcement to his kin that he was being courted.

“No, really, what’s a lovespoon?” Bofur looked around wildly until Bingo moved eagerly forward to tell him. They gossiped like old hens, squawking and chirping over little bits of their discussion until Bofur almost fell out of his seat laughing. Bilbo would rather not know what the dwarf found so humorous of the situation to go into hysterics like that.   

“So you are the one engaged to Thorin Oakenshield,” Thranduil said after an awkward moment. 

“Y-yes,” Bilbo ran his nervous fingers through his hair and fidgeted with the bead at the end of his braid. “But not officially. Not yet anyways. We are still in the process of courting.”

Thranduil hummed to himself, eating his salad neatly. “Congratulations.”

“T-thank you.”

Dwalin snorted into his cup and rolled his eyes. 

“Mister Baggins,” Legolas cut in, breaking the tense atmosphere. “If I may ask, how do things go between you and the King of Erebor? Have you set a date for the wedding yet? I would like to visit for the ceremony, if father allows it.”

“ _King!_ ” Bingo hollered, spitting his drink out and across the table at Paladin, soaking the Thain’s clothes in red wine. “Bilbo’s suitor is a _King?_ ”

Thranduil sighed and massaged his forehead with his hand as the hobbit quickly sputtered out an explanation.

 

****


	27. Expressed Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo talks to the head of his clan, someone cross-dresses, and there are intruders in the Shire.

****

After successfully heading off the conversation about Thorin’s royalty for the time being, Bilbo excused himself from the table to talk to the head of his family and grandmother, Laura Baggins. 

Thankfully Dwalin saw that Bilbo needed a private minute with the matriarch and was at least willing enough to leave the hobbits be for the moment. Still, the dwarf kept a sharp eye on them until he was eventually distracted by Tauriel and Bingo. 

Bilbo’s grandmother was an old hobbit, white-haired and wrinkled, barely able to walk anymore because her knees were so bad and thus she often had to use a wheelchair to get around. Laura Baggins, formerly Grubb, had been a beautiful hobbit once upon a time. With long, golden curls and bright sapphire blue eyes, she’d been the desire of lads throughout the Shire. And once she’d married the respectable Mungo Baggins there wasn’t an unmarried youth in the Shire who hadn’t been envious of either of them. And like most Bagginses their love had been notable and abiding, and even to today, Bilbo’s grandmother talked fondly of her affections for her late husband with a sparkling youthful energy that couldn’t be quenched.

“My boy,” Laura held a frail, trembling hand out to pat Bilbo’s cheeks. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How has my favorite grandson been?”

“I saw you yesterday if you remember and last I heard Otho was your favorite,” Bilbo smiled back, holding her cold hand against his cheek. 

His grandmother tsked at him, “Oh, pish posh! I only said that so he’d leave me alone about borrowing my pearl necklace for the wedding. Bothersome boy, kept coming by at tea time every day and interrupting my gossiping with Miss Hornblower until I said yes.”

Bilbo laughed, “If you say so.” 

Her hands slipped from his and Bilbo watched her put on her silk gloves. She got cold a lot more easily now and he worried about the coming winter and her comfort. “Now what are all these rumors I’ve been hearing about you, Bilbo? Your uncle Longo said something about you being courted by a dwarf?”

Taking the seat nearest to her, Bilbo moved forward until their knees were touching. “Yes. I am.”

“Oh,” Laura raised an eyebrow. “Does this dwarf have a name? And why has he not come to ask me for your hand like it is expected?”  

“See that’s part of the problem,” Bilbo said. “He’s sort of Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain.”

Unlike most reactions one would expect to having learned their grandson was being courted by a Dwarvenking, Laura Baggins just blinked. “That does not excuse him from asking for your hand formally.”

Bilbo laughed again, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I know. It’s partly my fault; I haven’t told him how things are done in the Shire.”

She hummed, hopefully in understanding. “Well, make sure you fix this misstep before things get out of hand. I was told you had company last night in Bag End, so I’m assuming it was him.”

Blushing furiously under her maternal glare, Bilbo bowed his head. “Nothing happened, I promise.”

Her expression changed and she suddenly gave him an audacious wink. “I wouldn’t hold it against you for trying the merchandise before you bought it. Just because he’s a King doesn’t make him a good lover.”

Bilbo’s jaw dropped and the elder hobbit started to giggle. 

“Don’t look so surprised, my boy,” She teased. “I was young once too.”

“Grandma,” Bilbo groaned, shaking his head. He didn’t know why he had thought she would take this matter seriously; she hardly did anything anymore. She often remarked that old age had given her a youthful spirit, and she liked to tease him at every chance she got.

“Oh fiddlesticks,” Laura swiped at him. “Don’t go acting embarrassed. It’s perfectly natural and a pleasurable experience. Mungo and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other when I was your age and we didn’t let thing like ‘what’s proper’ get in our way. It’s rather amazing that we only had five children and not more. Up until his death he still had the juice to go, bending me over my rocker–“

“ _Grandma!_ ” Bilbo yelped, covering his ears and blushing furiously. There were some things a hobbit just didn’t need to know about his grandparents.

The older hobbit rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. You fluster too easily, just like your father. Will you at least tell me about your dwarf?”

Cautiously he lowered his hands and eyed her speculatively. 

She poked him in the ribs, startling a squeak out of Bilbo. “Well go on, I’m not getting any younger.”

Bilbo huffed and then started to list some of Thorin’s characteristics. “Well, he’s King, as I said. He’s very handsome and brave, of course. A bit silly sometimes, but not in a bad way, and I think he’s sweet, though you wouldn’t really think it, looking at him. He can be stubborn too, to the point of being obnoxious, and don’t even get me started on how overprotective he’s being right now! Sending Dwalin to guard me from the elves, _really_ ,” Bilbo huffed, and then he caught his grandmother amused expression and shook himself. “Oh, right. He’s really good at sword fighting. He won at the games the other day and I was really impressed, despite the fact that I didn’t know much of what was happening. He’s very generous and good with children. His family is wonderful and I like every one of them, or at least the ones I’ve met. He has a sister and brother-in-law, two nephews, and various cousins, and they all live in the Mountain, so family is close. They also seem to approve of our courting. And,” Bilbo blushed, “he says I’m his One.”

Laura Baggins leaned forward suddenly, that last bit jerking her interest. Bilbo slightly felt like he’d just gushed every affectionate thought he’d ever had about Thorin and was a little winded by the experience.

“His ‘One’?”

Bilbo nodded, blushing so hard his ears felt like they were burning. “It’s… it’s sort of like a soulmate, I think? To a dwarf, they only have one person they ever love like that, and even if the love isn’t returned they won’t devote themselves to another ever again.”

“Oh _goodness_ ,” Laura sat back in her chair and put a hand to her chest. “That must cause a couple of pickles. Imagine, only falling in love once!”

Shuffling his feet, Bilbo kicked at a clump of grass. “I don’t know, it sounds rather romantic to me.”

His grandmother gave him a sympathetic look. “Well, I suppose some hearts are only big enough to care for one person. I always thought those dwarves were a peculiar race; they are so hairy in the oddest of places and yet their feet are bare. Did I ever tell you that I knew a dwarf lad once? He offered me gold and diamonds if I would run away with him. I refused of course, I had my dear Mungo – and what use do I have for diamonds? He sent me letters for a while, begging for my affections and offering me untold riches. He stopped when your grandfather told him of our engagement, but you know I’d never really given it much thought to what happened to him.”

Stunned, Bilbo gaped. He’d never heard this story before. Something like that he would have expected the whole Shire to know about and comment on for years to come. They were still talking about the time Buffo Boffin tried to raft down the Celduin River to the Sea of Rhûn and almost drowned. But a dwarf falling in love with his grandmother and attempting to court her under Mungo’s nose! That was quite salacious news. And to think this whole time he’d been blaming things on his Took side, when the Baggins side was just as guilty for getting involved with dwarves.

“I was quite the heart breaker when I was young,” she continued, oblivious to Bilbo’s internal struggle. “And now I can’t help but wonder what happened to that dwarf. I’d always thought he’d just fallen in love with someone else, maybe another dwarf? I do hope nothing bad happened to him.”

“I– I don’t know,” Bilbo answered honestly. Maybe the mysterious dwarf had only had a passing fancy towards his grandmother and eventually _had_ fallen in love with someone else? 

“Enough about me,” Laura Baggins shook herself from the memory and gave him a once over. “Now that I know that this _Dwarvenking_ loves you – do you love him? Would you consider him your ‘One’?”

Bilbo nodded his head so fast he felt his neck twinge. 

“That’s good,” his grandmother remarked, taking a sip of wine from her silver goblet. Now that Bilbo could see it more closely, he recognized some of the designs around the rim as dwarvish. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Now, tell me more about this Thorin. What’s his favorite book or favorite poem? How is his writing skill?”

“Um, he has written me some poetry. It’s not very good, at least by hobbit standards.” Bilbo wrinkled his nose. “He likes to compare me to jewels and rocks.”

“Bad poetry is better than no poetry,” she replied, waving him off. “Do you have a sample of his writing? I would like to read it.”

Bilbo shook his head. “Not on me.  I do remember one verse though, it was rather good.”

“Well go on, tell me!”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “‘ _The light of sun and star and moon, In shining lamps of crystal hewn, Undimmed by cloud or shade of night, There shone for ever fair and bright_.’” 

“That is rather good,” the older matron agreed, seeming pleased. “It might not be frivolous compliments, but he does seem to have a good tone for rhyming. Your cousin has already vouched for his singing and I heard stories about dwarves wandering the fields for flowers a while back and leaving them at Bag End. I assume he had a hand in that?” 

“Yes,” Bilbo replied. Who would have thought that somehow, maybe without ever knowing, Thorin was taking the proper procedures to courting a hobbit. Poetry, flowers, even a bit of dancing, and lastly there was the meal they planned to have together in Thorin’s chambers tomorrow. 

“Good, good. He’s at least doing _some things_ properly,” she wrinkled her nose in a familiar manner. “How do dwarves court? I’m afraid I don’t know how they go about getting married.” 

Bilbo paused, wondering if she was telling the truth. While she might not have mentioned the dwarf attempting to court her officially, she had made it seem like he’d been desperate to marry her. Then again she could have been exaggerating. “Um, there are three gifts to prove himself, and he plaited me a braid.” The younger hobbit showed her the bead. She tsked over the blue jewel, but overall didn’t seem disappointed. “And then there’s the sword.”  

Laura narrowed her eyes. “What sword?”

Bilbo bit his lips and hunched his shoulder. “Well, it’s their tradition. When one accepts their suitor’s tokens and considers them the right candidate for marriage, they present them with a weapon passed down for that sort of thing. I had to go to the Mountain to have one made, and it’s really just a small dagger. I thought since he’s King it would be the right thing to do, to acknowledge the engagement their way.”

“Well, you’re a _hobbit_ ,” she huffed, crossing her skinny arms. Her shawl slipped down her shoulder and Bilbo reached forward to fix it. “You should do it the hobbit way.”

“I know, grandmother,” Bilbo sighed. “But he isn’t a hobbit. So it’s best we do things both ways and satisfy everybody.”

“So you’ve written him poetry?” She asked unexpectedly, looking stern.

Feeling like his face would never recover, Bilbo gave up on hiding his blush. It seemed like no matter his age, his grandmother always had the power to make him feel like a small child. “No.”

“Well, why not?” She frowned at him. “I know your mother and father raised you better than that.”

“Um,” Bilbo pouted. “I’m trying, or well, working on it. I just got so caught up in everything before that I forgot.”

She squinted her blue eyes at him. “Caught up in what? You said you hadn’t gotten up to any funny business with him yet.”

There was no way Bilbo was going to tell her the full story, that originally he hadn’t known Thorin was a King. That would just be embarrassing and it wouldn’t look good on Thorin. So instead he skipped around that little detail while he explained everything else, though she seemed suspicious when he told her about him being fired from the kitchen staff and the resulting fight that happened afterwards. But she let him finish the story without interruption and actually appeared pleased about Thorin’s worry to carry things out correctly for both of them. She even hummed happily when he told her of the coming dinner arrangements.  

“Seems like your dwarf has things planned out.” She wagged a finger at him. “You’re falling behind. I expect you to go home tonight and write him some poetry, and then you can present it to him tomorrow. So don’t drink too much tonight or you’ll forget. I don’t want to hear from the Brandybuck’s later that my grandson didn’t follow through with proper courting etiquette when he went and got himself engaged to a _King_. Then I really would have to consider Otho my favorite.”  

Hope blossomed in his chest. “You approve then?”

She pulled him forward and laid a dry kiss on his cheek. “I know how passion sometimes takes a hold of a couple that things get rushed. As long as you are happy I am happy. Just promise me you’ll bring him by the house before the actual wedding. I’d like to inspect him personally since I doubt anybody is really worthy of you.”

“Promise,” Bilbo couldn’t stop smiling. He felt surely that he was going to explode like one of Gandalf’s wiz-poppers, he was so happy. His grandmother was going to love Thorin, he just knew it!

She pulled back to look him in the eyes, her expression serious. “Let him know if he ever does anything to make you cry he’ll have the whole wrath of the Shire coming down on his Mountain. Those dwarves won’t like that, once they find out how ruthless us hobbits can be.”

“Grandmother,” Bilbo moaned, mortified by her overprotectiveness. Though she gave him his independence and hadn’t asked him to move in with her, she’d only gotten worse with the passing of his mother. Bilbo knew she cared deeply for him and only wanted the best, so he couldn’t fault her for that. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for her, to pass on the head of the family to her oldest son and then a few months later take up the mantle again when Bungo died unexpectedly. It would have torn Bilbo apart to be in her place and he would have clung only tighter to what was left behind.

“Now you get back to the party,” she patted his knee. “From all that staring he’s doing that burly one has either taken a fancy to me or he’s getting anxious for you to rejoin them.” Laura Baggins sat back as Bilbo got to his feet and scoffed, “A _King_. Really, Bilbo, you certainly take after your mother.”

“My mother? After you just told me a dwarf was writing you love letters and offering tokens!”

She tried to fight a smile and couldn’t help it. “Oh, all right, you might take just a little bit after me.”

Bilbo leaned forward and quickly kissed both her cheeks. “Thank you. Your approval means a lot to me.”

“Yes, yes,” she shooed him away. “Off you go.”

With one last beaming smile towards the matriarch, Bilbo hurried over to his friends. Paladin had taken up his vacant spot, probably to talk to Thranduil about some trade agreements and Bilbo didn’t mind. When Dwalin and Bofur caught sight of his return, they made room for him between them. 

“Everything alright?” Bofur asked, whipped cream in his mustache. 

“Everything’s perfect!” Bilbo answered, smiling wildly at everyone at the table. 

Bofur paused with a chocolate truffle half way to his mouth. “That’s good, I suppose?”

“Yes, it is,” Bilbo nodded, accepting a pickled egg from a plate of them offered by Dwalin and popping it in his mouth. “Thank you.”

Dwalin just grunted and went back to his own eating, every once in a while handing something over to the hobbit to snack on. The music began playing soon enough; a band of hobbits and even some elves playing sweet melodies as everybody else talked and ate, enjoying each other’s company like old friends. Legolas tried to draw Dwalin into a conversation about Gimli, but the guard refused to talk about the young dwarf and just glared suspiciously back until the elf Prince blushed and turned instead to Tauriel for conversation. Bofur at least appeared to get along with everybody he talked to, Bingo and Andwise becoming sudden admirers of the dwarf and asking him all sorts of questions Bofur didn’t mind answering. Thranduil, quietly talking with the Thain, kept getting interrupted by some of the hobbit mothers, who would offer more food to him whenever he sat his fork down. Bilbo himself got distracted watching a flute player, smiling softly to himself as he watched her twirl around the dance floor.

It wasn’t until a couple of more songs played that Bilbo noticed that no one but the musicians were dancing. There were a few hobbits that eyed the dance floor with longing, most likely wanting to show off their footwork to the elves, but too embarrassed to be the first to travel out and into the center stage. Sitting up straight, Bilbo looked around, catching the elf Princes’ curious gaze.

“What’s the matter, Mister Baggins?”

Bilbo sized up the elf. “Um, I was thinking about dancing, but I wasn’t sure who to ask to partner with.”

Bofur and Dwalin suddenly went quiet and even Thranduil jerked his head in their direction.

Legolas gave the hobbit a mischievous smirk. “If you want, I wouldn’t mind dancing.”

“Really?”

“Sure,” Legolas got to his feet and held a hand out for the hobbit to grab. “You can teach me some of the Shire’s dance steps. I’ve been told I’m a fast learner.”   

Bilbo caught up and took the elf’s hands, not minding at all that the Prince was so much taller than him. The band paused for only a moment, then a new song started up, faster than the previous ones and quickly Bilbo started showing Legolas the steps to the familiar tune. They hopped, kicked, and skipped back and forth, just the two of them on the dance floor, laughing uproariously. 

Legolas laughed so hard he started to hiccup, faltering for only a second when the hobbit put a hand around his waist and showed him when to bend his knees and kneel. The elf hadn’t been fictitious, he really was a fast learner and he was keeping up with Bilbo even as the tempo got faster. 

“Is it me or is the beat quicker?”

Bilbo smirked, “It’s not you. The dance is called the Zorba.”

The elf gave a wheezing chortle until he looked away from his feet and towards the crowd watching, pointed ears turning pink when he saw his people snickering at them. It wasn’t that Bilbo minded being laughed at in this situation, he just wanted to breach that divide between their people. To show that there was nothing to be embarrassed about and they could have fun like they usually did. He knew the hobbits were just currently shy in front of the elves, wanting to appear as regal and stately as their guests, but Bilbo believed they shouldn’t curb their fun nature just for proprieties sake. 

“Don’t mind them,” Bilbo warned. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me.”

Legolas only stumbled a couple of more times, but generally he kept a good pace. The crowd started clapping along by the time song neared its end and a cheer went out when the two took a finishing bow. Afterwards it was like the hesitant atmosphere had been broken, and soon both hobbits and elves poured out onto the dance floor. Legolas was swarmed by a group of hobbit lasses, begging for a dance from the elf and Bilbo practically had to fight them off to get away, wiggling through the crowd and towards the tables.

Bilbo was just a few meters from the Dwalin when a giggling hobbit lass ran right into his shoulder, knocking him aside.

“Excuse me!”

The lass giggled again, flipping her fan out and hiding her face. “So sorry about that,” she said, her voice oddly high pitched and squeaky. 

“Um,” Bilbo paused, eyeing the girl. She was not familiar to him, though he thought he knew everyone in the Shire by now. She wore a mustard yellow bonnet with golden eagle feathers on the side, her brown hair in ringlets down her back.  The fan covered the majority of her face and Bilbo could barely see her brown eyes under her heavy makeup. And though the fabric looked rich, her yellow dress and petticoat looked a few years out of season, and her corset looked as if it was stretched tight across her broad chest in an odd style. 

She kept giggling and fanning herself nervously as Bilbo stared at her. There was a familiar manner about her that he just couldn’t place. She looked like someone he’d met before though he was sure he’d never seen her prior to this day. It was the most peculiar thing!

Another hobbit came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Would the pretty lady like to dance?” A drunken Fortinbras slurred, winking lewdly as his hand slipped down her back and onto her bustle. 

The lass growled, clicked her fan together, and then elbowed the hobbit in the solar plexus. “I’m _sorry_ , what did you say?”

Fortinbras wheezed, staggering back as he held his stomach. “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said in a decidedly deep voice, slapping her fan against her hand like she was thinking about hitting him upside the head with it. Fortinbras made a quick and strategic retreat. 

Bilbo gaped up at the woman, or rather, dwarf. “ _Kili!_ ”

Kili, and that’s who it obviously was when he turned back around and the hobbit got a good look at his face, twisted his exuberant smile towards Bilbo. “Oh! Hello Mister Boggins, what a surprise to see you.”

“Me?” Bilbo choked. “Kili, _what?!_ What are you doing here? What are you wearing?”

“Shh,” the dwarf grabbed his elbow, flicked out the fan to cover his face again, and marched Bilbo towards the party tree. “I’m in disguise.”    

“I, um, I can see that,” Bilbo muttered faintly, wondering how it was possible that Kili looked so attractive even under all that heavy makeup and stubble. Without the fan it was pretty obvious he was a dwarf at least. With the growing beard he could never pass for a hobbit, but in that dress and makeup Kili really looked like his mother. Or rather, if his mother hadn’t a mirror and she’d let someone like Thorin do her makeup for her.

Kili pushed Bilbo against the tree, sidling up beside him and leaning close. Bilbo got a strong whiff of roses and sandalwood coming from the dwarf and had to stop breathing for a moment because it was so overpowering. “What is _that_ – are you wearing perfume?” 

“Huh?” Kili looked around attentively, making sure no one was listening. “Yes, why? Do you like it? It’s my mother’s, but I can have the perfumer make you a bottle.”

“No, that’s okay,” Bilbo said, pinching his nose. It would have been a pleasant scent if it didn’t smell like Kili had bathed in the stuff. “And that’s not really what I want to know. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with your uncle at the games?”

“Fili’s covering for me,” the dwarf shrugged. “I mean, we heard the elves were spending the day in the Shire and got worried. I knew uncle was upset and I thought I’d do him a favor and watch you. Just in case something ‘untoward’ happens, you’ll have someone to protect you.”

Bilbo let his head fall back and bang against the tree trunk. “ _Really_?” He asked the sky, exasperated. 

Kili, thinking the hobbit was talking to him, just smiled confidently. “Of course. You’re to marry my uncle and that makes you practically family. Us dwarves watch out for family, especially around scheming elves.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bilbo gave the dwarf Prince a forlorn look. “That’s not really a problem here. Your uncle has already sent someone to guard me.”

“What?”

Bilbo pointed towards Dwalin, who now appeared to be in a drinking contest with the Elvenking. Both were throwing back pitchers of ale and cups of Goodbody moonshine as fast as they were being filled. Bilbo just hoped no one passed out like last time, because there was no way he could carry both of them home to Bag End to sleep it off. 

Kili jerked up straight. “What’s Dwalin doing here? Has Ori seen him yet?”

“Ori’s here?”

“Gimli too,” the Prince added, flipping his fan out again when Tauriel wandered close. She seemed to be hiding from Olo from the look of it, ducking her head behind a wine barrel or freezing next to another elf when the little hobbit called out for her.  

“Ori’s over there somewhere,” Kili continued after Tauriel slipped away. “He somehow got caught up in a conversation with your librarian and last I heard they were talking about some old manuscript found in Ered Mithrin. Boring stuff, really.”

Bilbo sighed heavily, “Then where’s Gimli?”

 “He was spotted quickly since he didn’t dress up and some hobbit is interrogating him.” The Prince waved his fan over in the direction of the Proudfoot clan. The hobbit hoped it was Odo who had gotten a hold of Gimli and not his wife. That woman had a sharp tongue on her when she thought she was being crossed.  

There really wasn’t much Bilbo could do. They’d already snuck in and it would cause too much of a hassle to kick them out. He figured it was best just to let them be and enjoy what was left of the day. They could bother with the consequences later.  He couldn’t be responsible for every dwarf that wandered into the Shire. 

Bilbo eyed Kili’s outfit with disbelief. “Are you comfortable in that?”

Kili looked down and pinched at his skirt, lifting it and showing off his lace petticoat. “It’s actually not bad, kind of tight in the chest but I like the breeze between my legs.”

“Oh _Eru_ ,” Bilbo moaned, hiding his face in his hands. 

“And my eyelashes keep sticking together,” Kili acknowledged after a moment. 

Bilbo pulled out his handkerchief, wetted the tip in a nearby glass of water, and started to rub furiously at the dwarf’s face. Kili squirmed like a child as Bilbo worked to get the blue eye-shadow off. The makeup really was over doing it, Bilbo thought. 

“Ow!” Kili yelped as Bilbo wiped at his cheeks, trying to remove the bright pink blush. 

“I’m trying to help you, will you just–”

“Mister Baggins, thank goodness,” Tauriel snuck up behind them, startling Bilbo into almost poking the Prince’s eye out. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Miss Tauriel!” Bilbo stuffed his handkerchief into Kili’s hand and shoved the dwarf behind him. He didn’t know if the elf would recognize the Prince on sight, but it was better not to tempt it. “Um, h-how can I help you?”

The elf looked over his shoulder, her furtive expression changing to interest as she looked the dwarf over. “Who’s this? Is the lady alright?” 

“Um…” Bilbo floundered.

“Oh, fine! Just an eyelash in my eye. My dear uncle Bilbo was helping me find it,” Kili interrupted in a high pitched voice, shouldering Bilbo aside and fluttering his lashes at the elf. Tauriel’s cheeks turned a lovely pink to match her dress, and her whole body seemed to tilt in Kili’s direction. 

“Oh, I hadn’t known Mister Baggins had such a lovely niece, Miss…?” 

Bilbo caught the dwarf smirking behind his fan as he giggled up at Tauriel. “My name is Marigold and–”

“And h-she’s engaged, t-to a hobbit in Esgaroth! She’s just visiting family and thought to stop by for the party!” Bilbo exclaimed, a bit disturbed by the whole situation. There was no way that he was going to allow Kili to continue the charade of dressing like a woman so he could trick the elf. Spying on him was one thing, but Tauriel was a wonderful person and Bilbo would not stand by to let a horrible trick be played out on her. 

“Oh,” Tauriel’s smile dimmed a bit and Bilbo would swear he heard her curse under her breath, but he couldn’t be sure. She quickly turned and snatched up the dwarf’s hands instead. “Congratulations, Miss Marigold.”

Kili gave Bilbo a peculiar look, “Thank you.”

Tauriel turned to the hobbit after an awkward pause. “Um, right. Mister Baggins, I need your help.”

“Um, yes, you said that.”  

“Sorry,” she winced at Bilbo’s chagrined sigh. He would have explained that it wasn’t her fault that he was so irked by the situation, but that would mean revealing who Kili really was and he couldn’t do that. It would end up embarrassing everybody. So Bilbo kept his mouth shut as Tauriel gave the impression of working up the courage to explain herself instead. “I asked around and no one will tell me, but I’m trying to find out who made those delicious pumpkin tarts. I would like to ask for their recipe.”  

Bilbo blinked, a bit bewildered. “Sure!” He squeaked, causing Kili to snicker behind his fan. “Right, um, let me see my… _niece_ off, and we’ll hunt down Rose together. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind at all to share her recipe.”

Tauriel flushed with relief and went to stand near a barrel of ale while she waited. As soon as her back was turned, Bilbo twisted around and pushed Kili against the tree, the surprise of the act having more of an effect than the hobbit’s actual strength. The dwarf gaped at Bilbo.

“That was a horrible thing you tried to do,” Bilbo raised a finger when the dwarf tried to interrupt. “No, listen to me. You can’t go around doing things like that, especially to King Thranduil’s personal guard. What do you think would happen if it got back to the Elvenking that Thorin’s nephew was playing tricks and lying to his people? You could really hurt relation between Erebor and the Greenwood, and that’s not even counting how it would indirectly drag the Shire into it. My people put a lot of work into this party hoping to set up good ties with the elves and it’s not something for you to make fun of. This is our livelihoods. A trade agreement with the elves will see my kin through the winter and it means our continued survival for the coming years. Put a little forethought in your actions and think before you do things. Other lives are at stake here and you can’t go around messing that up just for a laugh.”

“Mister Baggins,” Kili said softly, “I didn’t mean...”

Kili could hardly meet his eyes and Bilbo instantly felt horrible for scolding him, but he refused to be a pushover because of the Prince’s dejected expression. Between all that Fili and Kili had done to him – and Master Pumpernickel! – it was about time someone took them to task for their games and reprimanded them. If Bilbo really was going to be joining into their family, they were all going to have to set boundaries. And while it was alright to test those boundaries, it wasn’t tolerable for the boys to keep crossing them once they’d been asked to stop. It just wouldn’t be acceptable anymore. 

“You did,” Bilbo stated, making the poor dwarf slump in defeat. “You might only have been trying to have some fun, but you have to remember you’re a grown dwarf Prince of Erebor. So act like it.”

The dwarf looked so crushed and beaten down Bilbo couldn’t resist putting a hand on his shoulder, if only to reassure Kili that he didn’t hate him. He was just extremely disappointed. 

“I’m sorry,” Kili muttered, his bottom lip wobbling.

Bilbo sighed, pulling his hand back when it looked like it was doing no good. It might have been a better idea to tell the dwarf these things if Fili had been there here also. Not only because the other dwarf needed to hear it too, but because his brother was in need of his comfort afterwards. It was unfair for Bilbo to take all his frustrations out on only one Prince when it was both brothers who had upset him. “I believe you. Now you know where Bag End is and if you’d like to stay for the party you can, but you need to change first. Go to my home, get cleaned up, and you can borrow some of my clothes. Once you’re looking respectable again I’d like to see you down here.”

Kili’s head jerked up, his brown eyes unusually large. “You’d let me…?” 

“Yes,” Bilbo nodded, exhausted mentally. “You can stay. What’s one more dwarf at this point?”

“I-I…” Kili stuttered. “Thank you. I won’t– I mean, I _am_ sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know you didn’t,” Bilbo replied, “Now go, before Dwalin sees you in that dress and tells your uncle.”

Kili choked off a laugh, paused for a moment, and then rushed forward and hugged the hobbit. His arms were wrapped tightly around his chest and he nearly lifted Bilbo off his feet. This close to Kili the perfume was nearly suffocating, but Bilbo bore it. If he pushed the dwarf away right now, Bilbo thought he might really distress the Prince. 

“I am really sorry. I didn’t think of what my actions would do to the hobbits and I didn’t come here originally to cause any trouble,” the dwarf Prince whispered his explanation. 

“I know. I’m not mad anymore, Kili,” Bilbo replied, trying to catch his breath. His heart was softened at the dwarf’s honest remorse and he was glad his message seemed to have gotten across. Now hopefully Kili would tell his brother and they all could avoid a situation like this again. Only now Bilbo dreaded having to tell Thorin he scolded his nephews on the elves’ behalf. He had a feeling that might not go over so well. “Go change. I’ll hide some sweets for you before the others eat them all.”

“Thanks, uncle,” Kili sighed, bumping his forehead gently against the hobbits. “Make sure Dwalin doesn’t drink all the ale either.”

“Yes, yes,” Bilbo was set back on his feet and the dwarf Prince shuffled back. Waving him off in the direction of Bag End, Bilbo then turned to go find Tauriel. He hoped the day would improve from here on out, now that some things had been sorted out.

It was only after Bilbo had introduced Rose to the elf that he remembered Kili’s words, and wondered if he’d imagined the Prince calling him uncle.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The verse is actually from Durin’s song by Tolkien. I’m bad at poetry and didn’t want to attempt it for fear of scaring you all, and even though Bilbo considers Thorin’s poetry bad it still has to be good in a sense, so I thought something from Tolkien himself would be appropriate. 
> 
> Zorba dance is a real Greek dance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JNs5qHOWJgM


	28. Tip of the Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is lots of drinking, and love connections. And Bilbo discovers a secret.

****

Rose and Tauriel got along rather well, talking about berry tarts and honey roasted cashews over a tiny glass of red wine. The elf, to all appearances, seemed to enjoy the hobbit lass’ attention and Rose did her a great service of keeping Olo away, when the young hobbit tried to pester the elf guard into playing with him. In fact they were so caught up into their giggling conversation about the type of nuts found in the Greenwood that they hardly noticed Bilbo sitting next to them, so when the hobbit moved to excuse himself it caught both of them by surprise.

“Oh! Sorry Mister Baggins, we didn’t mean to exclude you.”

“Its fine,” Bilbo waved off Rose’s concern. It had actually been rather relaxing to be ignored. His thoughts had been able to wander without appearing rude to the company around him. He had thought about his grandmother Baggins’ words, Kili’s mischief, and the fact that there were more dwarves wandering around the Shire than were invited. There had even been a small moment when Bilbo had thought of Thorin; his stubble scratching against the hobbit’s cheek, of the dwarf’s supple kiss-swollen lips, and the light flush of his cheeks as he had leaned over Bilbo and smiled down at him this morning.

Bilbo coughed and felt his own cheeks turn red. “Well, I’m going to make my way back to his Majesty and Dwalin. Don’t want them to overdo it and make themselves sick.”

Tauriel glanced back towards the Elvenking, “He’ll be fine. He has a high tolerance for alcohol.”

“Um,” Bilbo blinked. “I’m sure he does, but I should stop them before things get out of hand.”

He meandered away from them, stopping to say ‘hello’ to a couple of relatives and ask their plans for the week. Paladin was half-drunk and laughing loudly at everything. When the other hobbit caught sight of Bilbo he grabbed him by the arms and twirled him around.

“You are the best, cousin!” Paladin crowed, placing a sloppy kiss on Bilbo’s cheek. “King Thranduil has agreed to open trade between Mirkwood and the Shire! In fact he wants us to visit him in the spring and hold a feast in our honor! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Bilbo had to grab hold of the Thain’s elbows so he wouldn’t topple over, “That’s good.”

“This wouldn’t have been possible without your good judgment and fearless thinking,” Paladin said, smiling so wildly he looked maniacal. “Everybody! A toast to Bilbo Baggins! Bravest hobbit in the Shire!” 

The hobbits around him cheered in honor, raising their pitchers of ale in salute and patting Bilbo’s back as praise.

“This is all unnecessary,” Bilbo blustered, trying to extract himself from the throng of well wishers. Most of them were Tooks, congregating around the gambling tables and setting up mischief for later. Bilbo caught one of his cousin’s pulling out his bag of loaded dice and shooting the oblivious elves a conniving look. After a swift kick to the back of the knees, Bilbo scolded him for even thinking of cheating against their guests.

“Just a harmless bit of _fun_ ,” Everard Took whined.

Bilbo shook a finger at him. “No, none of that. It’s bad luck to hustle an elf, you know that.”

The other hobbit looked over the guest with a shrewd eye. “What about a dwarf? I heard nothing about hustling them.”

Snorting, Bilbo rolled his eyes. “There’s a reason for that, but go ahead and try.”

“I will,” Everard said primly, fixing his bowtie and sweeping off into the dancing crowd. Bilbo could hardly catch a glimpse of him through the multitude of people, the other hobbit’s dark curls bouncing with each hop-step he made towards his next victim. Bilbo thought for a moment he was heading towards Ori, until he saw the hobbit approach Bofur instead. 

Bilbo sighed wearily and just hoped Everard didn’t cause too much of a fuss. Bofur was adept at taking care of himself so Bilbo had no worries there, but Everard wanted so much to not be like his brother Reginard that he seemed to go out of his way to find trouble. He gambled and drank too much, showed up to parties he wasn’t invited to, and was just a general nuisance around the Shire that the hobbits had taken to calling him a rebel rouser. Bilbo just knew someday Everard was going to get himself into a situation his pretty looks wouldn’t get him out of.

“Oh, Bilbo! Good,” Peony Burrows abruptly thrust her baby Myrtle into his arms. “Watch her will you? I need to clean up Moro, he got chocolate in his hair again. Silly child, acts like he doesn’t know where his mouth is.”   

Juggling the child, he almost dropped the tiny thing. Myrtle of course didn’t look as if she’d noticed. She just blew a raspberry at him and giggled wildly at the face Bilbo made. “Um, but…”

Peony gave him a frazzled look, her skirt streaked with chocolate and who knew what else, little Moro clinging to her arm and covered from head to toe in left over sweets. 

“Right,” Bilbo gulped. “I’ll watch her. We’re going to go sit though, so you might have to search us out once you get Moro cleaned up.”

“Thank you, Bilbo,” Peony beamed, jerking back when Moro tried to put his sticky hands in her hair. “She’s just eaten so she shouldn’t put up much of a ruckus.”

Bilbo watched dazed as the mother and son marched off to their smial, Peony reprimanding Mono as they went and warning him he wouldn’t get another dessert for the rest of the week because of his actions. Standing there with a baby in his arms, Bilbo was suddenly at a loss at what to do. He hadn’t much experience with a child this young, and being an only child, the knowledge he’d learned was from handling his cousins – whom he had been able to pass off to their parents when they got to be too much to handle.

“Well, looks like it’s me and you, Myrtle,” Bilbo said softly to the babe. She just looked blankly back at him with large blue eyes. “Right,” Bilbo sighed, settling her better against his chest. “Off we go then. Let’s go see what the Elvenking has been up to. We need to make sure those ridiculous dwarves aren’t bothering him.” 

Bilbo noticed that Ori had joined Dwalin, successfully distracting the other dwarf from his drinking game. In fact Dwalin seemed so unfocused he didn’t even notice Thranduil kicking his seat aside and making room for Bilbo. The King’s butler Galion pulled up a chair and the hobbit took the offered seat. Bilbo also accepted the glass of wine from the harried elf with thanks, though he didn’t plan to drink much since he was holding a baby. Dwalin and Ori appeared to be arguing over Ori’s choice of dress, or at least the warrior seemed to take offence at the hobbit clothing, gesturing wildly at Ori’s waistcoat and baggy trousers. Neither took any notice of Bilbo joining their table.

“Mister Baggins!” The Elvenking smiled, nodding at the hobbit. “What’s this now?” He pulled Myrtle’s pink blanket aside to get a look at her face. “Oh! She’s very beautiful.”

“Thank you. This is my niece Myrtle Burrows,” Bilbo said, letting the King get a better look at her. Myrtle’s eyes went huge when she saw the elf lean over to look at her and her tiny fist jerked out and snagged a fistful of blond hair. Thranduil didn’t seem to mind at all, even when Myrtle tried to put the hair in her mouth. Galion looked ready to have a panic attack and had to excuse himself.

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo sighed, gently tugging the strands away and replacing her prize with his finger, which she immediately stuck in her mouth. “Sorry about that, she’s only a few months old.”

“It’s fine,” The Elvenking said, sitting back with a pleased expression. “Your kin are very blessed to have so many young. Do you plan to have any of your own once you are married?”

Bilbo blushed and quickly looked down at Myrtle as if she held the answer. Truthfully, Bilbo hadn’t given it much thought before. Before Thorin he’d always imagined himself a bachelor for life and had planned to leave his inheritance with one of his younger cousins once he passed. He had set up an agreement with the Head of his clan that if any children were orphaned, Bag End had the room and resources to take them in. But that was a rare circumstance to plan for and likely never to happen. That improbable decision had been the closest Bilbo had ever gotten to heirs of his own until present. Now, things were different.

“I– I don’t know. Thorin and I haven’t talked about it yet, and it’s not like we have to make a choice right away.”

“Oh, of course not,” Thranduil granted, tipping his head aside in agreement. “I was just curious. You are so good with children is all and I’d think you’d make a wonderful father some day.”

“T-thank you,” Bilbo scratched at his nose in embarrassment. It was very kind of the King to say that.

Thranduil looked very pleased with himself, which might be why Dwalin rounded on him and started badgering him into another drink.

“There are children present,” Thranduil interjected, gesturing towards Bilbo and Myrtle.

“Eh,” Dwalin blinked in surprise at the hobbits. “Where’d you get a wee one like that? Not yours is it? Thorin might need to know if it is, not that he’d be much bothered by it but...”

The comment startled a laugh out of Bilbo and the movement caused Myrtle to squeal in amusement. “Of course not Dwalin, she’s my niece Myrtle Burrows.”

“Oh,” the dwarf almost looked as if he was disappointed by this news. “She’s lovely. Can I hold her?”

Blinking in surprise, Bilbo passed the baby over. He trusted the dwarf not to hurt her, though his large hands practically engulfed her whole body. Myrtle cooed up at the dwarf and Bilbo could actually see Dwalin’s heart just burst open in affection for the babe. They stared at each other in a content sort of way, Myrtle smiling gummily at Dwalin as the dwarf tucked her into his elbow.

Ori leaned over Dwalin’s shoulder and said something in Khuzdul that made the other dwarf grunt.

“That she does. Thorin’s going to wish he was here to see her.”

Bilbo perked up, “What about Thorin?”  

Ori smiled blissfully at the hobbit. “Us dwarves have a soft spot for children. And this one looks a lot like you, Mister Baggins. She has the same color of eyes and curly blond hair.”

“I must agree with them,” Thranduil cut in, earning a scowl from the young dwarf before Myrtle’s babbling distracted him. “She does hold a resemblance to you, Bilbo. If you had not been specific with her parentage, I would have assumed she was yours.”

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo waved them off. “That’s just silly. If anything she looks like her mother. Peony is one of the prettiest hobbits in the Shire.”

Thranduil gave him an acquiescing smile, folding his sleeves into his lap. “Then you and your kin were blessed. I still maintain the resemblance is there and you should be proud of your niece for her beauty.”

Dwalin made a sound like a dying beast, but Bilbo kept his gaze locked with the King’s.

“I am,” Bilbo squeaked, sipping at his wine in an attempt to hide his blush. “But I seriously doubt I am as pretty as her mother. She won Miss Cornstalk three years in a row when she was a tween.”

The elf King hummed, and something about the noise conveyed he didn’t quite agree with the hobbit but was entertaining him anyways. Thranduil’s heavy gaze caused Bilbo’s toes to curl up in some unknown emotion and he hurried Dwalin to hand Myrtle back over to cover up his flustering. Which is of course when Kili plopped down next to the hobbit and threw an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder, nearly making the hobbit drop Myrtle.

“Hello,” the Prince smiled joyfully at the table, ignoring Dwalin’s annoyed expression and Thranduil’s raised eyebrow. “Sorry I’m late, wardrobe change.” Kili showed off his borrowed red waistcoat and olive jacket. The hobbit would concede he did look good in the clothes, probably better than Bilbo had ever looked wearing them, if only Kili had buttoned the waistcoat properly. He’d also forgotten to wipe some of the makeup off and his eyes were still heavy lidded and dark. It gave Kili a sultry look and he sort of resembled the perfumed boys in Dale who came out at dusk.

Kili’s smirked obnoxiously until Myrtle made a squawking noise.

“What is that?!” The Prince pulled his arm back quickly, clutching his lapels like the baby might attack him. “It looks like a deformed squash.”

“ _Kili!_ ” Everybody yelled. Dwalin reached over the table to smack the Prince over the head and scold him Khuzdul. Myrtle didn’t take to kindly to the name-calling either and promptly spit up all over Bilbo’s jacket.

“Mahal!” Kili yelled, jumping back from the hobbits. “It projects vomit! Is it some kind of hobbit weapon?”

Bilbo groaned, mourning the ruin of one of his best jackets. It would figure the baby would throw up on him even though she’d mostly been in Dwalin’s arms. If anything she should have aimed for Kili, at least the dwarf deserved it, and Bilbo wouldn’t have been so upset by the loss of the green jacket.

“I’ll take her while you clean up.” Thranduil scooped Myrtle up in his arms, allowing Bilbo to pull his jacket off without dropping her. The babe looked so tiny next to Thranduil’s bigger frame, with Myrtle curling up against his chest like a kitten and mewling softly. Galion, who’d taken up standing behind his King, smiled softly down at the babe when she jerked her head up onto Thranduil’s shoulder. She tried to smile back and wiggled her bottom in excitement, causing the King to put a hand on her back to steady her.

Myrtle’s crude behavior was not over and once safely tucked in Thranduil’s arms she let out the loudest fart Bilbo had ever heard.

Everybody froze and the King jerked back. Holding the baby aloft, Thranduil marveled at the child with open astonishment. Galion looked ready to faint. Holding his breath, Bilbo was so stunned he had no idea what to do. How was one supposed to deal with a babe who’d just broke wind on the King of Mirkwood?  

Then, Thranduil started to laugh.

Uproariously.

Thranduil laughed loudly, from deep from in his belly and joyfully, a pleasant sound and even more precious by it rarity, for the Elvenking wasn’t known for his easy humor. If he wasn’t so worried about the babe, Bilbo might have been taken aback by the King’s amusement. Instead Bilbo wrung his hands together and barely resisted snatching Myrtle back into his arms.

Galion took a step forward, arms open to retrieve the child. “Your majesty, I will take her to have her cleaned up.”

The elf King waved his butler off, “No, she is fine. Just a bit of gas, nothing I can’t handle.”

The other elf bowed. “If you say so.”

“I do. Now go enjoy yourself,” Thranduil said over his shoulder, startling the other elf. “I am perfectly capable of getting my own wine tonight.”

Bilbo watched Galion shuffle cautiously into the crowd, until over Dwalin’s shoulder the hobbit caught sight of Legolas.  The Prince had been so shocked he’d dropped his pint onto Gimli’s head and was staring agape at them from across the field. The young dwarf didn’t even seem to notice the ale trickling down his face and staining his clothes. Gimli’s jaw was dropped open and his eyes bulging in disbelief.

“Um,” Bilbo stuttered, turning back to the elf King. “I’m terribly sorry.”

Thranduil chuckled, bouncing Myrtle gently in his arms as she giggled uncontrollably. “No worries. Legolas would do the same thing, though he never smelled quite as bad as this one does.”

“Ada!” Legolas shouted, face flushed so red it resembled a tomato. Gimli suddenly smirked mischievously and turned on the elf Prince to continue their bantering. Legolas appeared to try his best to ignore the dwarf, but every once in a while Gimli would say something that had the elf smiling in amusement, which of course made Gimli upset and his yelling only got louder and more indistinguishable. Bilbo thought maybe the young dwarf shouldn’t have drunk so much so early into the evening.

The Elvenking smiled softly, patting the baby on her back to make sure she was no longer gassy. “It seems like so long ago I held a child this small in my arms. Legolas was always a fussy baby, as soon as he could crawl he was trying to get away.”

“I wonder why,” Dwalin grumbled under his breath, earning a glare from the hobbit.

Bilbo cautiously sat back down, Kili slipping in beside him and tugging on his sleeve nervously. The dwarf Prince stared bewildered at Thranduil and then the child, like he couldn’t distinguish if they were friend or foe. The hobbit wondered if Kili’s unease at the baby would cause a problem in a few months, if Dis’ condition was what Bilbo thought it was. The Prince would no longer be the youngest member of his family, but once he got used to it, Bilbo was sure Kili would be a wonderful older brother.

Giving up his purple jacket as ruined, Bilbo folded it and set it under his feet to deal with later. He let Thranduil hold Myrtle for a while longer, at least until she’d successfully soiled his right shoulder with drool and was attempting to grab as much of the elf’s blond hair as she could. She didn’t like being pulled away from the King and squawked loudly about the mistreatment, at least until she caught sight of Kili.

“Why is she looking at me like that?”

Bilbo smothered a laugh, leaning into the younger dwarf so her tiny feet kicked at his arm. “She likes you.”

“She does?” There was a wary hopefulness to Kili’s tone that belied his overt aversion to the baby.

Myrtle blew a spit bubble, waving her hands wildly and flexing her fingers at the dwarf.

Kili looked from the baby to Bilbo and back again. “What does she want?”

“Who knows,” Bilbo shrugged. “But your attention wouldn’t be remiss.”

“I don’t want her to cry,” Kili replied, holding a finger out carefully for Myrtle to grab onto. She cooed happily once she did and quickly popped the digit into her mouth to suck on. “What is she doing?” Kili asked a bit hysterically, looking ready to jerk his hand back regardless if he’d upset her or not. “Mahal, that is disgusting. I’m getting spit all over me. Fili is never going to believe this.”

Thranduil snorted loudly, popping a strawberry into his mouth and being very obvious with his exasperated eye rolling.

“I’m sure your brother will,” Dwalin reported, watching the Prince and child interact with a strange expression. “You used to drool all over him when you were a babe. Though, if his stories are to be believed you still do a lot of drooling when you’re asleep even now.”

“I do not,” Kili exclaimed, his ears turning red. “Fili is a liar. He just says that because everybody knows how loud he snores and he thinks he shouldn’t be the only one teased for his night time tendencies. Besides, Thorin’s worse. He talks in his sleep.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Bilbo said sharply, about to scold Kili before he paused.

The whole table turned to stare at him.

“Um, well, I meant--”

Dwalin started laughing and even Ori gave a light chuckle, and soon most of the table was laughing with them. Bilbo groaned loudly and smothered his face against Myrtle’s neck, breathing in the fresh scent of baby powder and wishing he’d never opened his mouth in the first place. How could he blurt such private information out like that without thinking! He might as well just announce to the whole Shire he’d slept with Thorin. Well, in the sense that they actually slept. There had been no funny business at all. Kind of.

Peony finally returned once everybody had settled down and started reminiscing about the Princes’ youth. She thanked Bilbo profusely for watching Myrtle, promising to repay the favor someday. Bilbo just waved her off, telling her he hadn’t minded and that Myrtle was a very much a well behaved child. Peony was charmed by the praise, and when the others ended up agreeing with Bilbo, she had her husband bring over a barrel full of more ale for them to drink.

“I like hobbits,” Kili giggled after a few pints. Dwalin looked rather aghast by the Prince’s low constitution when it came to alcohol, but Bilbo hadn’t blamed Kili. He would‘ve drunk a lot too if everybody had started in on his childhood memories like they had with the dwarf Prince. It turned out Thranduil had a long history with Thorin’s family and had been in Erebor when the young Prince had been born. The Elvenking seemed to relish making the dwarf blush as he told the story of how Kili’s first order of business in Middle-Earth had been to relieve himself over his grandfather in front of an audience. Bilbo though, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why the old King had presented Kili to his kingdom while the baby had been naked. He would have asked either of them if something across the table hadn’t distracted him, leaving Kili and Thranduil to argue over the validity of his tale without the hobbit to supervise.

Ori was leaning heavily against Dwalin’s shoulder. Bilbo didn’t think that the young dwarf’s sluggishness only had to do with the alcohol, since every shift of movement caused Dwalin to put his arm around the younger dwarf to steady him. Ori’s eyes had been becoming more glazed as the night wore on and abruptly his hands disappeared under the table.

Dwalin gave a yelp and jerked straight up in his seat. “None of that now!”

“Aww, why not?” Ori whined, nuzzling his nose against the other dwarf’s shoulder and biting his lips until they were all puffy and red.

“Your brothers will kill me,” Dwalin muttered, picking Ori’s hands out of his lap and setting them on the table. “They’re probably are making plans right now. That bastard of a thief has a sixth sense about these things.”

“You,” Kili pointed at Thranduil with his cup, startling Bilbo when he nearly knocked it into the hobbit’s nose. “Where’s that thing you rode, that deer with,” Kili made a motion around his head to express antlers, spilling ale over his shoulders in the process. “Why’s it not here?”

Thranduil gave the dwarf an amused look, still sipping delicately at his wine. “The elk? He is off doing what elks do when they are not transporting Kings I imagine.”

Kili pouted, “And what’s that?”

There was a loud cry behind them and Bilbo leaned back to scrutinize the situation. Dwalin went for his weapons, which he’d tucked under the table when the drinking had first started, and Ori hopped to his feet and pulled out his slingshot. Kili jerked back too quickly and fell off his seat and to the ground, sputtering when his cup splashed down his front. Thranduil just raised a cool eyebrow and scoffed at them all.

Looking over the crowd, Bilbo caught sight of Bofur and Everard at a table playing cards, a sizable crowd standing around them. The hobbit was half-naked, left only in his trousers and bowtie, with a hand full of cards pressed against his chest.

“You’re cheating! I know it!” Everard had a full body blush, splotchy and red all down his chest and past his waist.

Bofur was twirling one side of his mustache around a finger, feet kicked up on a chair and grinning wildly at the hobbit. Given the circumstances, Bilbo rather wished the dwarf didn’t look like he was enjoying himself so much at the other hobbit’s expense. “Ya want to bring up cheatin’ when ya tried to play me with loaded dice? I’m a dwarf, lad, I know when there’s metal in an object.”

“What on… what’s going on over there?” Bilbo asked, not towards anyone in particular.

Hamfast, who’d been nearby with Bell, Drogo and three tall elves in silver robes discussing politics, shook his head and answered. “They’ve been playing card games for money. Once Mister Took ran out of coins, the dwarf suggested he start betting clothes.”

“Oh Eru,” Bilbo sighed, getting to his feet. He should have known something crazy was going to happen, though he never would have thought it would involve naked hobbits.

Everard looked close to tears. “I won’t give up my pants! It’s not proper! You just want to humiliate me in front of everyone!”

“How about this,” Bofur leaned forward, seemingly unaware they had an audience. “Ya win this hand, I’ll give everything back I won. If I win, pants come off.”

“But–”

Bofur held out his hand, where a pair of red dice clicked against each other. “These, too. Though I think I deserve them after your trickery.”

The hobbit mulled over the offer, frowning and checking his hand. “Fine.”

Bofur just nodded calmly and laid his cards on the table. The hobbits gathered around gasped and Bilbo wondered if it was a good one. Going by the pitying looks they were giving Everard, he would assume so.

Everard’s eyes started to water, “I can’t–  there’s no way I can– my cards–”

“Should I presume to have won?” Bofur smirked, tipping his hat forward and winking at the hobbit. Everard just crumbled under the crushing defeat, slowly getting to his feet and unbuttoning his trousers. The crowd tittered and laughed, excited to see the unruly Took get his comeuppance.

“Hey now,” Bofur interrupted, grabbing his wrists. “Who said you had to take them off here?”

The hobbit blinked, his eyes red with unshed tears. “But you said…”

Bilbo was pretty sure he saw Bofur leer at the other hobbit. “Yes, I’d like your pants to come off, but I never said where.”

Everard’s jaw dropped and his hands hung limply in the dwarf’s grip. “You want me–”

“Aye,” Bofur said bluntly, smiling madly at the fuss the other hobbits put up at such a frank proposition. And in front of others too! The Bracegirdle’s scowled, covering their children’s ears and hustling them away, and the Brown clan patriarch looked so scandalized Bilbo thought the old hobbit might explode in rage. The others were in all various degrees of drunkenness and got over their protest as soon as they figured out how much good gossip the affair would be to talk about tomorrow. They all waited with baited breath for Everard’s answer.

“Oh,” Everard mumbled, his cheeks flushing pink and he looked the dwarf over. Bofur preened under the attention, wiggling his hips and flipping a braid back over his shoulder in an over-exaggerated manner. “ _Oh_ ,” the hobbit said again, this time more loudly, a smile slowly crawling across his face. 

Bofur laughed wildly, getting to his feet and collecting his winnings with one hand, and, with Everard in the other, he pushed through the crowd and towards the road leading to Erebor.

Bilbo sat back down slowly and turned to face the others, looking rather stunned. “Did that just…”

Dwalin nodded solemnly.

“Huh.”

Kili’s head popped out from under his seat. “Wha’ happened?”

Bilbo sighed and took another drink of wine.

 ***

The party had raged well into the night. Dwalin had been unable to out drink Thranduil no matter how hard he tried. The worst diagnosis the Elvenking would admit to was some light tingling in his toes from the moonshine, while Dwalin constantly fought to stay upright in his seat. Ori and Kili, both light weights and inexperienced with hobbit liquor, had passed out at some point into the late evening. Bilbo had half a mind to cart them both back to Bag End but Dwalin dissuaded him, explaining he’d take them back with him later.

The oddest occurrence – besides Bofur and Everard’s debacle – was Gimli and Legolas’ interaction. The elf had tried the majority of the night to ignore the young dwarf, and seeing it as a challenge Gimli had just tried harder for the Prince’s attention. There had been a moment when Gimli had kicked at the elf’s shins when Legolas had turned his back on him and the dwarf had been pushed back by a guard in retaliation. Bilbo  had thought for a moment a fight might break out, but Legolas smoothed things over rather quickly and things went back to normal.

Or as normal as could be with the company of elves and dwarves in the Shire drinking excessively and dancing with hobbits.

Picking up his ruined jacket, Bilbo gave Thranduil and his companions his farewells. It was getting too late for him to stay out if he wanted to work on the assignment his grandmother had given him. His week had already been exciting enough that he was starting to feel fatigued. He felt bad about leaving the party earlier than even their guests, but Thranduil reassured him everything was fine and they could always finish their conversations at a later date.

After promising Dwalin he could make it back home without any trouble, Bilbo explained to Paladin he was leaving for the night and asked him to keep an eye on the dwarves for him if they stayed after. Hamfast jumped in to offer his own assistance, since Gimli had gotten so upset by Legolas ignoring him that he’d tried to drown his sorrow in Tobias’ company much like Thorin had, and as a result had passed out cold under the party tree. Bilbo wondered aloud near the Brandybucks about Dwalin’s inability to log three unconscious dwarves back to Erebor and Mirabella fussed at Gorbadoc until he promised to loan his wagon for the journey.

Knowing his friends would have safe passage home and the elves were in good hands with his family and neighbors, Bilbo headed back home to Bag End.

The walk back home was peaceful, with only the whispering breeze through the trees and the frogs singing down in the marsh land to keep him company. The moon was almost full, so Bilbo had enough light to see where he was going with little problem, and the fireflies appeared to be leading a trail up the hill towards the willow tree so he didn’t quite feel like he was traveling alone. Bilbo could still hear slivers of music wafting up from back down the hill, laughing and shouting, but it was mostly drowned out by the heavy hush of the night.

Bag End was empty and dark when he walked inside, the door creaking loudly in the silence. Kili had picked up after himself, folding the gold dress and leaving it and his accessories on an end table near the door. The dwarf hadn’t even made much of a mess shuffling through Bilbo’s dresser looking for clothes. The delicate care that Kili had put into making sure not to disturb anything of the hobbit’s made Bilbo smile. He appreciated the gesture.

Bilbo made himself a light snack and some tea, before settling himself down at his desk. After he pulled out some spare parchment and quill, he wet the tip with some heavy black ink and set the pen to paper.

The hobbit was ready to write whatever came to mind, but he drew a blank. A blob of ink dripped off the tip of his quill and spattered onto the clean paper. He didn’t know what to write! 

Groaning, Bilbo set the quill into the ink well and leaned back in his chair. His head felt spacey, empty and muddled as a dark abandoned cave. Usually the words just flowed out of him the second he put pen to paper, but he seemed unable to form a coherent sentence at the moment. Could it be possible he’d drunk too much? Although he’d purposefully avoided drinking too much so he wouldn’t have any problems writing Thorin a poem.

Using the sheet of parchment he’d already ruined, Bilbo squiggled lines and drew pictures. It helped focus him, bleeding all that frustration and disappointment at himself out onto the paper as he created scenes of fire breathing dragons and trees with faces. It got him into a better mood suited to his task, centering his concentration on what he needed to do instead of what he wanted to do. 

He could easily think of some things he’d like to tell Thorin, like how handsome he was and how much Bilbo admired him. The wonder Bilbo felt every time he saw the dwarf fight, how good Thorin took care of him, and how lucky Bilbo was to have earned the dwarf’s affection. Those things were easy to articulate, because they were just common knowledge about Thorin, so there was nothing special in repeating the same thing he probably heard everyday.

Thorin needed to be told what he’d done to Bilbo. The good, the bad, the amazing, all of it! It was easy to write flattering words about someone. However, it was harder to convey feelings that were so unexplainable there were no words in Westron that could describe them. To express an experience wretched upon someone by someone else for the sake of love. How meeting Thorin and falling in love with him was like tearing Bilbo open and scrambling up the insides, fixing things and breaking others until the hobbit no longer knew who he was anymore and not caring a whit about it.

It was chaos and perfect and Bilbo didn’t think he could live another day without it in his life. Without Thorin.

Bilbo wanted to convey all that. He just had no idea how to coherently piece that into something beautiful and poetic. Into something he’d be proud to give to his suitor and the dwarf he loved.

Jumping to his feet, Bilbo paced around the study down the halls and to the living room. For a moment Bilbo had thought maybe Thorin’s gifts would give him inspiration. The garden tools and puzzle box were sort of expressions of their own, ways the dwarf had communicated his affections for Bilbo. They might have been objects but there was a subtly meaning in their creation and presentment, a message of acceptance and trust.

It only frustrated Bilbo more at his own incompetence.     

Unable to grasp even one sentence for a poem, Bilbo despaired at his inadequate talents. There was no way a simple love poem could be compared to the gifts Thorin had given him. How could language compare to creations of gold and silver? How could anything Bilbo make ever measure up to what Thorin had already done for him? 

He flopped into his favorite armchair, kicking his feet over the arms and grabbing at his puzzle box. He was hoping the unconscious routine of moving the gold pieces around would calm his muddled mind into something reasonable to work with. His fingers glided mindlessly over the latches and designs, snapping the clues he’d already discovered into place and finding new ones as he worked.

There was a sudden click, and the lid popped open.

“Ah,” Bilbo gasped.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, Bofur just invinted strip poker to get into a hobbit’s pants. I can totally see Kili being tentative around babies because he doesn't have any experience with them. He would also be the type to get middle-child syndrom even though he’s an adult.


	29. Growing Puzzles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo only discovers more puzzles, argues against Glóin about the practicality of getting him a crown, and is ordered to undress in front of a stranger.

****

 

Bilbo blinked as he looked into the golden box. Inside, pressed tightly against the edges, was a large silver key.

It was an odd looking key, not like any Bilbo had ever seen before. It was bulky and diamond shaped at the bow, with another tiny bit of metal intersecting the end like a chain link, instead of the usual looking bits found on hobbit keys. Turning it over in his hand, Bilbo noticed some dwarvish runes along the middle stem. It wasn’t anything he could read, but maybe he could show it to Thorin and ask about its meaning. He wondered if the dwarf even knew what the key was for, what it was meant to unlock. 

Setting the key in his lap, Bilbo checked the inside of the box and found another object. A piece of folded parchment, weathered and stiff from its prolonged confinement. He was a lot more careful about this item, since it looked like it was ready to crumble to pieces at the slightest provocation. 

It was a letter, written in Khuzdul. 

Bilbo sighed in frustration. It seemed he’d solved one puzzle just to find two others. The letter had never been intended for him, and yet still Bilbo was curious to what it said. It could be a treasure map with written instructions or even a teasing note to Thorin from his brother Fenrin. Either way, Bilbo was a bit disappointed with the find, though he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. He figured it best to give the items to his dwarf when he saw him the next day, since neither were of use to him if he didn’t know their purpose.

He hesitated about putting the items back into the puzzlebox, mostly because he couldn’t be sure he’d be able to open it again. Instead, the hobbit uncovered an empty tin box of Bungo’s left in a dresser drawer and placed both items inside it. This way he could take the items with him tomorrow without worrying about damaging or losing them. 

Both items had sparked his curiosity, so Bilbo carried the box with him when he headed back to his study. With his recent discovery he had a sudden motivation to write. It was like the puzzlebox had opened up a well of inspiration. Once at his desk, his pen practically flew across the paper as the words just came pouring out like a waterfall onto the rocks. It beat down and tore at him until he felt hollow and wrung out by his explicit feelings for Thorin. He somehow worked out the right words to communicate everything he’d had trouble expressing earlier. It was like magic, a spell weaved from the tip of Bilbo’s quill onto the heavy parchment paper, like a love spell.  

Bilbo could only hope his words would work their enchantment on Thorin. 

The moon was high in the night sky and shadows danced across his knuckles by the time he was finished. The candle had melted, running down the brass chamberstick on the side of his desk where it had created a small pool of hardened wax that dripped onto the floor. With barely any ink left, Bilbo put his quill down and sat back in his chair. He closed his eyes and took three long, heavy breaths.

He felt so wretched and tired. More tired than he’d ever been before. It was like he’d poured his heart and soul out into the poem, and though he was satisfied with the result, he was still anxious. Now Bilbo would have to bare it to Thorin’s scrutiny, and while he doubted the dwarf would be cruel over a poem, the thought still caused his hands to shake. He could only trust that his dwarf would give it the proper respect and appreciation it needed. Otherwise, Bilbo didn’t know what else he could do.

Folding the parchment, Bilbo put a wax seal on it and tied it with ribbon. This way he wouldn’t be tempted to come back and change anything later in the night when he started to second guess himself. It happened sometimes when he wrote letters; but he thought the open, genuine feelings expressed in the poem were the best he could do in this type of situation. They were candid and raw, so any mistake was honest in its sincerity and pure in the imperfection.  

Bilbo checked out the window to see if the party was still going on. There was a dim light from over the hill, where the lanterns still burned on the party tree. Though morning was only a few hours away, the hobbit could only assume the party was still in full swing. He wondered if the elves were having fun, if they were enjoying their time in the Shire and that’s why things were running so late. He rather hoped that was the situation. That everyone was having too much fun together to even bother with watching the time. The hobbits sure seemed to appreciate the elves’ company, at least from Bilbo’s perspective. 

Thranduil had been a pleasant fellow. It boggled his mind that Thorin didn’t like the elf King, since Thranduil had been very kind to Bilbo despite his relation with the dwarf. It confused and vexed the hobbit that Thorin wasn’t as friendly towards the elves and their King as they deserved. Unless there had been a personal insult that Bilbo was unaware of, it didn’t make sense for the dwarves to hold a grudge.  

As Bilbo mused about the situation with the dwarves and elves he spotted a tall figure coming up the road. With the moon behind them, it was hard to make out any distinguishing features, until Bilbo noticed the figure’s hat. He tucked the poem and the tin box into his pockets before lighting another candle to carry with him. The shadows in the corners of his home were dancing away from him as he quickly prepared for guests. He hid the pool of wax under a pot and swept some gathering dust beneath the carpet. He’d do some proper cleaning at a proper hour, but for now a quick fix would do.

With everything looking as neat as could be on such short notice, Bilbo rushed to the front entrance to let them in before they could even knock. He held the door open as Master Pumpernickel sauntered in and Gandalf not a second behind him, the wizard pausing to take off his hat before bending low to make it through the entry way.

“Good evening, Mister Gandalf!” Bilbo chirped, nearly hopping from foot to foot and wondering why the wizard would visit at such an odd time. He enjoyed the man’s company, but he was a bit jittery to know the reason Gandalf was stopping by. Had something happened in Erebor, or at the games? Had something happened to Thorin?

Bilbo felt his heart speed up at the very thought. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if something bad had happened to Thorin. Is that why Gandalf had come? To bring bad news or ask Bilbo to return with him to Erebor and listen to the King’s last’s words? Had the dwarf joined another competition and gotten hurt in the process? Was Thorin in the throes of fever and moaning for Bilbo’s company? It would only take him a moment to get dressed, but Bilbo was willing to run through the Shire in his nightshirt if it meant he got to Thorin in time to ease his pain.

“A little past evening, my dear friend,” Gandalf raised his eyebrows and shook out his sleeves. As if sensing the hobbit’s worry he smiled crookedly and placed a warm hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Everything is fine. I had to return a wandering resident before he got himself into too much trouble.”

“What?” Bilbo glanced between Master Pumpernickel and the wizard. “What happened?” 

The large cat dropped a tuff of blond hair with a silver bead at the end and calmly started licking his paws. Bilbo thought he saw a linger trace of blood on Master Pumpernickel’s claws and the hobbit swallowed thickly in dismay. He was going to assume the visit had nothing to do with Thorin if the varying looks of amusement and satisfaction from his guests were anything to go by.

“Um?”

Gandalf shook his head in exasperation and pulled out his pipe. “Let us retire to the living room. I’m sure you will enjoy hearing the story of how our daring knight of the alleys had challenged and bested one of the Princes of Erebor.” 

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo sighed, feeling his panic deflate. He should have known something like this would happen. When Kili came back from Bag End without mentioning a confrontation, the hobbit hadn’t even thought about his tenant’s curious absence. “I’ll get us some tea and biscuits, go on ahead and have a seat Gandalf.”

Bilbo hurried to the kitchen and made some chamomile tea, something to sooth his anxiety and maybe help him get some sleep later tonight if it was possible. He carried the tray back to the living room, only pausing a moment when he found the chunk of hair abandoned in the hall. Groaning to himself, Bilbo picked it up and left it on a table, figuring he find something to do with it later if Master Pumpernickel wasn’t keeping it as a trophy of sorts. He wouldn’t put it past the cat. 

“Here we go,” Bilbo set a cup in front of the wizard and sat down in his own armchair before pulling out his pipe. A good smoke and some tea were just the thing to settle his nerves. “Now, tell me about this ‘challenge’ and why it looks like I have some of Fili’s hair in my hallway?”  

Gandalf chuckled, coughing out smoke as he sat back in his seat and crossed his legs. “It was all a rather ceremonial affair. Mister Pumpernickel believed his honor had been besmirched by the Prince and demanded a challenge to restore his reputation. The dwarves were confused at first, but once I explained things it was all relatively simple to figure out.”

Bilbo looked away from the growing fire in the hearth, knowing that the wizard must have started it while he was in the kitchen. The heat warmed his cold toes perfectly and caused him to yawn. “Please tell me Fili wasn’t swinging blades and axes at my boarder. I might have to have a few words with him about fair play.”

“Of course not, Bilbo, my boy, what a silly notion,” Gandalf replied, smoothing his beard down across his chest. “It was hand to hand, at Master Pumpernickel’s choosing.”

“Eru,” Bilbo said softly, closing his eyes. He could only imagine how that had gone down. “Did this happen at the games in front of everyone?”

Gandalf laughed quietly to himself. “Not quite, but there was a fair amount of spectators watching the battle. You’re sure to hear varying degrees of the incident around the kingdom tomorrow, I’m sure. Thorin’s none too pleased by what happened, but the Prince should have thought about whom he was messing with when he trapped Master Pumpernickel. The young Prince was quite lucky to only loose a clip of hair and acquire a couple of scratches – our Master Pumpernickel is a great warrior and he could have done worse.”

The beast in question jumped into his padded bed in front of the hearth and started to purr loudly as he kneaded the pillows with his claws, looking very satisfied with himself. Bilbo stared at the cat, unsure if he should admonish or congratulate him for getting the better of the mischievous Prince. He wouldn’t say Fili didn’t deserve to be punished for what he did – locking Master Pumpernickel in a cage like that was just horrible – but to publicly shame the dwarf in front of his family and friends seemed a tad extreme to the hobbit. Bilbo could only hope this lesson would sink in the first time and the dwarf wouldn’t try to exact his own revenge in retaliation. Fili didn’t give the impression to be the type to become cruel when humiliated, but he and his brother could be awful immature regarding certain situations.      

“Is he alright? Fili, I mean?” Bilbo looked back over at Gandalf. 

Gandalf waved his concern off, “He’s fine, like I said. A few scratches, warrior wounds he can show off later. Everything is settled, I promise.”

“Well…” Bilbo paused, looking the wizard over for any deception to his words, “If you say so.”

“I do,” Gandalf smiled. He bent forward to sip at his tea, blowing at the steam coming off the top and smacking his lips. “Now, tell me about the gathering. Were the Elvenking and his party agreeable guests?”

Bilbo nodded, “Yes, everyone got along rather well. Or at least between hobbit and elf. There was some conflict between Legolas and Gimli, but something tells me I should have expected that. I’d be worried if they didn’t seem to enjoy bothering each other so much. From the looks of it, I think they’ll be harassing each other until the elf Prince returns to his woodland kingdom.”

Gandalf hummed, puffing at his pipe as he watched the fire. “We can’t force everyone to get along. Some things have to develop naturally.”

“Ha!” Bilbo laughed, raising an eyebrow at the wizard. “Yes, well, both are acting like children with their first crush. Prince Legolas hasn’t been overtly hostile, but his teasing only eggs on the young dwarf and causes things to escalate. They pull each other’s hair and make fun of the other’s heritage, and until tonight things had never gotten to a point that guards had to step in.”

The wizard hummed. “I’m sure they will work things out eventually. I seem to remember a hobbit not too long ago complaining about a dwarf bothering him,” Gandalf advised, blowing a smoke ring. “Lovely weather we’ve been having lately, don’t you think so?”

Bilbo blinked, tea cup in hand about to take a drink. “Yes, I suppose so.” He set the cup back onto his plate. Bilbo thought Gimli was awfully young to be thinking of dalliances with an elf Prince. Glóin was sure to have something to say about that if he heard about it. Bilbo was less sure how Thranduil would take the news. 

Gandalf sipped delicately at his tea. “I think this pleasant weather will hold up until the coronation.”

“That would be nice,” Bilbo agreed and after a moment of consideration confessed, “Thorin invited me, to the ceremony.”

“Did he now?” Gandalf asked, looking none too surprised.

“Yes.”

“I assume he will be announcing your engagement to the kingdom?” The wizard set his teacup aside, pulling out some more pipe-weed from inside his purse and stuffing his pipe. When Bilbo nodded he smiled genially and lit the pipe with his thumb. “Congratulations then.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, chewing on his lips. “Um, do you think we’re rushing things? I love Thorin, but sometimes I wonder if I’m a good match for him socially. H-he’s a King and I’m just a hobbit. How am I supposed to be a support to him if I don’t know how to help him?”

Gandalf sighed, “That is not for me to say. Do I think you’re ready? Maybe so. Do I believe you are good match for Thorin? Yes. Will his kingdom suffer because a hobbit is consort? Doubtful. But, Bilbo, even the wise cannot see all ends.”

“I know,” Bilbo groused, slumping forward in his seat. “It’s just – I worry how others see us. I get the feeling that some dwarves will not like the idea of a hobbit marrying their King.” 

Sitting up straight, the wizard narrowed his eyes as Bilbo. “Has someone said something to you?”

“No!” Bilbo shook his head. “No, nobody has said anything to me. It’s why I’m sort of worried. I could handle it if someone said something to my face, but they could be saying stuff behind my back and I can’t defend myself. They could be saying things to Thorin and he’s not telling me.”

“Bilbo, my boy,” Gandalf sighed, relaxing again. “You shouldn’t worry about the opinions of others. If they have any problems with you over something that you cannot change, that is something they have to deal with. I’m sure if there are any dwarves in the Mountain that dislike the idea of a hobbit as consort…” Gandalf smiled, “I’m sure you will eventually change their mind.”

“Oh,” the hobbit was pleased by the compliment. There hadn’t been any dwarves that had been overtly hostile towards him. Even that one unpleasant dwarf had only given him dirty looks, but there _had_ to be rumors in the Mountain about him. He remembered the family of dwarves on his trip to the markets in Dale and they’d known about Bilbo being courted by the King before the hobbit had. Who knew what kind of gossip was going around now!   

“As for Thorin,” Gandalf chuckled, “He can take care of himself and I feel sorry for the dwarf who insults you in front of him. The wrath of the King is not something to trifle with.”  

Bilbo groaned, “Goodness, he wouldn’t hurt anyone would he?”

“Of course not,” The wizard grinned. “Thorin wouldn’t lay a hand on them. That’s what he has guards for!”

“Gandalf!” Bilbo gasped, though the comment surprised a laugh out of him. 

The wizard winked. “He is a Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erebor and from the line of Durin, oldest and most important of the dwarves of Middle-Earth. Even still, he is lucky to call you his own. A hobbit like you is more than he deserves.”

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo blushed. “You make it sound like I’m more important than him.”

“Well, of course you are!” Gandalf barked. “You are Belladonna Took’s son, gentlehobbit of the Shire, and my friend. I would even bargain to say you have made an ally in Thranduil as of tonight. If there isn’t a hobbit with a more reputable reputation than you, I would eat my hat!”

Bilbo laughed softly, his concern fading a little. “It’s not that I worry that things won’t work out with Thorin and I, but I’m scared that somehow I’ll ruin things for Erebor. I love Thorin, but I’m not a politician or advisor. I have no training or background that will help me assist him. I sometimes think Thorin would have been wiser to choose someone more suited for the job than me, though I’d be heartbroken if he abandoned me now.”

The wizard raised his bushy eyebrows. “I think he made a very wise choice. It’s not about the training or guidance one has growing up, but their spirit to do well. Ones greatest glory is not in ever failing, but in rising up every time we do fail. Of course I am only a wizard who’s been around for ages, what would I know?”

Bilbo sat back in his armchair and puffed at his pipe. Gandalf was right, he should trust that Thorin knew what he was doing. If anyone did have a problem with Bilbo becoming consort, someone would have said something by now. He couldn’t imagine someone like Dwalin or Lady Dis being silent if they disapproved of him in some way. Maybe it was just his nerves getting to him. Besides, they were only getting engaged, so there was more than enough time for Bilbo to learn his duties by the time they married. 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, smiling softly to the wizard. 

Gandalf waved him off. “Think nothing of it. Now, it’s getting late and I have a kingdom to clean up and a worried King to alleviate. Someone has to tell Thorin that the elves haven’t run off with his hobbit like he’s been imagining all day. Really, Bilbo, those dwarves need a bit of common sense brought into their company and I think you’re just the person they need.” 

Laughing, Bilbo cleaned up the teacups and walked the wizard to the door, holding it open for him as Gandalf fixed his hat upon his head. If it wasn’t so late, Bilbo might have asked him to stay longer, so that they could talk about the past and the future ahead of him. Sadly, Bilbo could hardly hide his yawning at this late hour. The hobbit genuinely enjoyed the wizard’s company and hoped he wasn’t going to leave as soon as the coronation was over with. If Bilbo wasn’t so busy tomorrow he would have asked him to come by for dinner. As it was, Bilbo appeared to have a busy schedule until the Durin’s day festival was over.   

Tossing his scarf over his shoulder, Gandalf paused halfway out the door, “Remember this, Bilbo: It is not great wisdom or a battle ready mind that Erebor’s future needs, but peace, good cheer, and a respected King whose home and heart is filled with love. The kind of things a hobbit would value and bring to their dwelling. There is more to you than what meets the eye, and you have a good deal more strength than even you can imagine.”

Bilbo was barely able to mumble out a stunned ‘thanks’ before Gandalf gave his goodbyes and was heading down the hill. The wizard was whistling to himself as he practically skipped back towards the Mountain, a line of fireflies dancing behind him as he disappeared into the night.

Bilbo shut and locked the door, leaning against it for a moment to let things sink in. If both Thorin and Gandalf believed in Bilbo, it was time for the hobbit to start believing in himself. No more of this useless worrying or fretting, he would have to have some confidence in himself for his choices. And while marrying a King wasn’t something he’d ever planned on, he’d always intended to marry for love if the urge took him, and it just so happened Thorin was the one he loved. Thorin being a King was just something he’d learn to contend with and they would make the most of it together. 

Master Pumpernickel popped his head up when Bilbo shuffled back into the living room. “Sorry, just putting out my pipe. I left supper for you in the kitchen if you get hungry.”

The beast made a chortling noise and tucked his nose back under his tail.

“Alright then, good night.”

After extinguishing the candles, Bilbo hobbled to his bedroom, hoping to get some sleep before the sun rose. His dreams were peaceful that night, filled with the sounds of elvish flutes and good company singing along as Thorin spun him around a dance floor. A crown of gold flowers graced the dwarf’s head as he scooped Bilbo into his arms, laughing merrily as he tried to steal kisses from the hobbit. He couldn’t remember how it ended, but Bilbo awoke the next morning with a smile on his face.

 

 

Bilbo was enjoying a light snack of dried fruit chips and nuts after lunch when Glóin knocked on his door. He was a bit surprised to see the dwarf, since he wasn’t expecting to see anyone until later today. Still, Bilbo didn’t think for a second of turning him away. He might not have planned to entertain guests but nonetheless, the hobbit was always prepared for sudden visitors. Luckily he’d just pulled some apple danishes from the oven and the pot of tea he’d made was still warm. He’d been a bit lazy this morning from such a long night and as a result he was still in his night clothes, though there was nothing revealing about them that he couldn’t answer the door as long as he kept his robe on. So the hobbit closed the book he was reading and went to answer the door. 

“Good morning, Master Glóin,” Bilbo said cheerfully, holding the door open. The burly dwarf smiled merrily back, bowing slightly as he stepped inside. “How can I help you today?”

“Hello Mister Baggins, excellent weather we’re having no?”

Amused that the dwarf wanted to talk about the weather, Bilbo readily agreed and led Glóin to the dining room. He took a seat across from the hobbit, accepting a cup of tea and apple danish with unrestrained joy. Bilbo sat back down and continued eating his own snack, watching with great amusement as the dwarf moaned loudly when he bit into the pastry’s filling. 

“What brings you to Bag End?”

“Oh!” Glóin sucked the creamy filling from his fingers. “I’m here to escort you to Erebor.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “It’s barely past noon.”

“Yes,” the dwarf nodded, taking a sip of tea and making a face. “Sorry I was late, but Lady Dis thought it best to let you eat something edible before you were subjected to Thorin’s cooking.”

“He’s cooking?” Bilbo squawked, nearly dropping his teacup. He never would have thought Thorin was making the dinner himself. Bilbo wouldn’t have thought he even knew how to cook!  

Glóin rubbed at his nose, twitching his mustache fretfully. “Isn’t that the proper hobbit thing to do when courting? The suitors supposed to cook for his intended. It’s what we were told.”

“Um,” Bilbo blinked, wondering how Glóin and the other’s knew that and _who_ exactly had told them about _proper_ hobbit courting. “Yes, but–”

“No buts!” He pointed a righteous finger at the ceiling. “You’ve been nice enough to do things the dwarf way until now, it’s only good of Thorin to return the favor. He’s been readily informed of all the appropriate procedures and is ready to carry out any trial and tribulations your race demands of him.”

Bilbo sputtered, “Alright, but–”

Glóin seemed only to hear the first word and thought Bilbo was in accordance. He suddenly hopped to his feet and rubbed his hands together. “Are you ready to go? We shouldn’t have the other wait too long. Master Balin scheduled your clothes fitting for an hour, then there’s your appointment with the jeweler. Oh! Mustn’t forget the formal meeting with—”

“You just got here!” Bilbo interrupted, wondering wildly what the dwarf was going on about. He thought Thorin had only invited him over for dinner? There’d been no mention of visiting the tailor or _jeweler_! Bilbo hadn’t even had time to cook one of his apple pies like he’d planned, since it was only good manners when invited to dinner to have a treat for the host. And he’d only just washed his nice clothes earlier this morning, but they were still hanging out on the line to dry. There was no way he would be ready to see Thorin before this afternoon at the earliest, he just wasn’t prepared! 

He tried to explain this to Glóin.

“Well, that’s why we’re going to the tailors!” The dwarf laughed, putting the dishes in the sink. “You have to have the proper clothes for the coronation anyhow, and Thorin’s already agreed to pay for everything. Master Balin says they have your measurements already and they just have to make sure it all fits. I hear Draupnir is the best at what he does. My Ovrimi has been dying to get a chance for him to design an outfit for her. He’s so popular he has a waiting list a year long just to schedule an appointment with him.”

“What?” Bilbo flailed when Glóin stole his empty teacup right out of his hand and easily tossed it into the soapy water without breaking it. “I don’t – wait? That’s my best china! I can’t believe you–”

“Come on, come on,” Glóin rushed him, forcing the hobbit from his chair and into the hallway towards the door. Bilbo hardly had a moment to fumble the tin box with Thorin’s key and letter into his robe pocket, thankful the poem he’d kept close since this morning was already in there. He’d barely been able to convince himself not to rewrite it until Glóin had shown up. “No time to waste, busy day ahead.”

Bilbo almost tripped over his feet as he was forced from his hobbit hole by the pushy dwarf. All he was wearing under his robe was a simple white striped shift and yellow, knee-length braies he’d worn to bed the night before, so he had to hastily tie the belt across his hip or risk flashing his nightclothes at the neighbors. Hamfast, who had been working in his garden, only paused for a moment to say hello before he went back to his work. The other hobbit rubbed at his forehead every other moment and groaned aloud about elves and hangovers. Bell waved at them from the kitchen window, winking at Bilbo when he gaped at her. Did neither of them think to help him? Bilbo was being forcibly evicted from his home!

“Now,” Glóin said, throwing a heavy arm around his shoulder and keeping Bilbo from slipping away. “I heard you hobbits are not into jewels and such, so that’s why I scheduled the appointment today. Figured you wouldn’t have anything of your own to wear. This way, Thorin won’t have to worry about you not wearing the best suitable accessories for his coronation. No cheap crystals or glass work for his future consort. No! You need the finest gems imaginable, so that means diamonds, sapphires, or whatever else you need to look your station. Hope you don’t mind but I invited my wife along? Ovrimi will meet us there after your fitting. I trust her taste in jewelry. She has this coat pin that all the other ladies fuss about.”

“Master Glóin,” Bilbo groaned, trying not to blush at the stares his underdressed state was garnering. He was sad to see that most of the hobbits just gawked for a moment before shaking their heads and going back to their businesses. It seemed they were no longer surprised with the things Mister Baggins did anymore or the fact that dwarves were carrying him off to the Mountain without any say. “I don’t, um, I don’t really need any jewelry.”

“See,” Glóin boasted, “That right there is the attitude I’m talking about! You hobbits are so odd.”

“We’re not odd,” Bilbo hissed, clutching the lapels of his robe together. “We just like other things besides gold or jewels.”  

Glóin tried to give him a shake. “It’s odd to us dwarves. Who wouldn’t want a gold necklace or diamond tiara? I can see it now, you standing next to our regal King, dressed in fine blue silks with silver armor, gold rings with opals the size of my thumb on each finger. Of course, you’ll need something to show off your new position, so a tiara or a smaller crown. If we can find something to match Thorin’s that would be better.”

Bilbo really hoped that wasn’t what they were going to the jewelers for. What would he need a diamond tiara for? He was going to be a King’s consort, not a Princess. He tried to imagine what he’d look like being draped in gold jewelry and multicolored gems, and thought he’d look ridiculous. He wouldn’t be able to walk from the weight of the jewelry he was wearing if the dwarves had their way. “Be as it may, I have no use for jewels and the only type of crown a hobbit wears is one made of flowers. Besides, Thorin has not made a complaint about my simple clothing, so why do I need to see a tailor?”

“Of course he’s not going to complain,” Glóin agreed, shooing some guards out of the way as they reached the entrance to the Mountain. “He’s Thorin. He’ll do anything to make you happy since you’re his One. You could prance around in sheer linen and flowers and he’d be the happiest dwarf to ever live, but we have to prepare you for the ceremony, so that means dwarven wear.”

Sighing to himself, Bilbo smacked his hands over his face to hide his blush. “I can’t believe you just said that.” He snorted at the wild speculation the dwarf had about hobbits. He made them sound hedonistic and wild, like hobbits ran around the Shire in nothing put their smallclothes braiding flowers in each other’s hair. Bilbo could just imagine Lobelia’s face when he told her this news. She was going to have kittens that the dwarves thought them to be such indecent folk.

Glóin was listing the types of gems he thought Bilbo would look best in, when the hobbit glanced up and caught sight of Loni a few yards ahead of them. The dwarf maid’s head was down but she was watching Bilbo and his companion as they traveled down the halls with an odd look. 

Bilbo pulled back, forcing Glóin to stop and cutting off his rant over the consistency of cut emerald versus polished emerald. “Why did we–” Bilbo’s escort squawked, blanching when the hobbit slipped from his hold and under his arms. His bare feet making a sound against the rock surface, Bilbo was quick and quiet as he snuck up to the other dwarf. 

“Hello, Miss Loni. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The dwarf maiden jerked back in surprise. She must not have thought that Bilbo would actually approach her though she’d obviously been watching him walk down the hall. “Sorry y-your, um, Mister Baggins, I didn’t see you there.” 

She attempted a curtsy, but Bilbo rushed to stop her. Grabbing the dwarf’s elbow, he pulled her forward into a hug before he thought better of it. He hadn’t known how much he missed her and the kitchen staff until he saw her. Last he’d left things, it had been awkward because he’d fainted after being fired and finding out about Thorin, causing Bilbo to be embarrassed about returning. Now, he just felt sad that he’d ignored the friendships he’d made because he was being too selfish and worrying over his own feelings than those of his friends. They deserved better than that. 

She squeaked and after a long moment, melted into the embrace. “Bilbo,” she moaned sadly, putting her arms around his back and squeezing him tightly as she buried her face into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. It was all my fault!”

He pulled back and helped her wipe the tears from her eyes. “No, it wasn’t. I hope you haven’t been thinking that this whole time. I should have been upfront with Master Flar to begin with. You did nothing but tell the truth.”

“I got you fired!” Loni wailed, her makeup smearing down her face. 

“You didn’t,” Bilbo reassured, smiling softly up at her. “I was bound to have to quit eventually anyways.”

“Of course,” the dwarf lass laughed wetly, rubbing her runny nose against her velvet sleeves. “You’re marrying the King. I got the King’s consort fired! I’m surprised they haven’t thrown me in the dungeons for treason.”

The idea was so absurd that it startled a laugh out of the hobbit. “Treason? Loni, that’s just silly.”

“Mister Baggins?” Glóin said gently, interrupting the reunion. “We’re going to be late.”

The dwarf lass startled, yanking away from the hobbit like she’d been burned. Bilbo gave the dwarf a mocking glare, exasperated that Glóin would barge in while he was trying to reassure Loni. Couldn’t he tell that this was more important than having his clothes fit? Glóin just shuffled his feet and looked anxious to move on, ignoring the hobbit’s frown and tapping his foot obnoxiously. 

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said to the lass. “We do have an appointment to make, but I’d like to visit you afterwards to talk. Will you and the others be in the kitchen later? I’d like to speak to Master Flar and maybe thank Mistress Flor for her help that day.” 

“You can’t,” she shook her head, still watching Glóin cautiously. “Everyone was given a day off. I think they’re doing construction in there by the sounds of it. There was a lot of banging around and cursing coming from inside when I went by earlier.”

“What?” Bilbo asked, surprised. What of the communal meals? How were the soldiers and workers eating if no one was in the kitchens cooking? 

Loni seemed to recover herself at the chance to gossip. She wiped the running eye makeup off her cheeks with the palm of her hand and returned Bilbo’s small smile. “It’s all very secretive, even Master Flar doesn’t know what’s going on. They have guards outside the door to keep people from snooping around but every once in a while someone will catch a glimpse inside. We think they’re remodeling the whole place from the looks of it and Master Bombur’s hoping for a new iron cauldron.”

Bilbo pursed his lips in confusion. Somehow he had a feeling things were not quite how Loni thought it might be. It just seemed too suspicious, with Thorin cooking dinner tonight and the sudden removal of the kitchen staff for the day. He glanced at Glóin as if for confirmation, and the dwarf looked guiltily away.      

“Oh, well, I guess I can stop by sometime next week,” Bilbo offered, looking back at Loni. “We’ll have lunch together one day when things are less busy. Just because I no longer work with you doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be friends.”

“I’d like that,” Loni said softly, pulling Bilbo back into another hug. “Thank you, for– for–”

“It’s alright,” Bilbo whispered. He didn’t quite know if it was because he was marrying a King or because of how they last parted that the dwarf had been upset by his presence, but Bilbo didn’t want Loni to ever be afraid to approach him for anything. He really did consider her a friend and he felt horrible for how he had ignored her for so long because of his humiliation. It really hadn’t been her fault things had happened as they had. In fact, he probably owed her a great deal. He would have been ignorant of Thorin’s true identity for longer than he already had been if it wasn’t for her saying something. 

Eventually Glóin pulled Bilbo away, reminding Bilbo that he had a ‘schedule’ to keep to and they couldn’t be late or it would ruin the whole itinerary they had set up. As they headed down towards the tailor, Bilbo tried to find out who exactly ‘they’ were and why they were so interested in Bilbo having proper clothing and jewelry, today of all days. 

Glóin just smiled cheekily back, hurrying his step to make up for lost time. Bilbo had to jog to keep up with him and was nearly panting by the time they made it to the tailors. 

As soon as they stepped into the room, Bilbo was accosted by the most unusually dressed dwarf he’d ever met. He had to blink a few time to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. The outfit the dwarf wore was a deep carmine pink, with purple tulle made into little bows placed around his chest and waist, with green gems dangling from his belt. Bilbo could only assume that the green fur lining his boots was dyed since he’d never seen a creature that color before. The heavy gold necklaces and rings didn’t seem to impede any movement, but the hobbit was quite amazed the dwarf could even bend his neck to look at Bilbo’s feet. 

“This must be the hobbit,” a deep baritone purred. Bilbo took a step back as the white haired dwarf stepped right up to him, his long nose nearly poking the hobbit in the forehead. “You were right to come to me, Master Balin, he’s going to need all the help he can get.”

“Um,” Bilbo gulped, glancing over the dwarf’s shoulders and catching sight of Balin. The older dwarf waved weakly back and winced when the tailor pinched at Bilbo’s robe.

“Don’t you worry, little hobbit, let Master Draupnir take care of you. I will have you in the best clothing I’ve ever designed – even that silly elf King will weep in envy. Come now, to the back room. Hork! Some red wine for our guest!”

A young dwarf in all grey rushed back behind the curtained off area and returned with four golden goblets of wine. Once the group was in relative privacy, Draupnir turned to Bilbo and clapped his hands loudly.

“Now strip!”

Glóin caught Bilbo when he tried to flee.  

            

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry updates are so slow. This hasn't been a great week for me or my family, and next week I'll be visiting my grandparent so I'm unsure how much time I'll have to spend on writing. Then, starting Jun 10th I'll be taking statistic classes, so thats another thing to slow things down. They're only 4 week classes, so hopefully this decrease in fast updates will only be temporary. =)


	30. Princely Apparel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is taken on a shopping trip by Glóin and pretty much everybody ignores his suggestions on what to wear to the coronation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update: Betaed 6/6/13 by Caristia, the most wonderful person in the world! =D

*****

 

Bilbo snatched his robe back before Draupnir could toss it away like he did the hobbit’s other clothes.

“Give me that,” Bilbo growled, holding the thick, warm cloth against his chest. He was afraid if he lost sight of the robe he’d lose it for good, and he couldn’t risk misplacing his poem and tin box still safely tucked into the pockets. Standing in his smallclothes in front of four dwarves, two of them strangers, was not Bilbo’s idea of a pleasant activity. If he found out that Thorin had something to do with this, Bilbo was going to box him over the ears!

Draupnir tsked at him, eyeing the hobbit’s feet with a calculating expression. “Could you shave–”

“ _No!_ ” 

“You didn’t even know what I was going to ask,” the dwarf sighed, snapping his fingers at his assistant until the younger dwarf refilled his cup. “I thought hobbits were easy going, except you are anything _but_! You shoot down any of my ideas before I can even voice them.”

Bilbo boggled at the tailor. “You were going to ask me to shave my feet, I know it. That’s like… like asking a dwarf to shave his beard off!”

All four dwarves gasped, and the assistant Hork looked ready to faint.

“And I won’t wear shoes either!” Bilbo continued, glowering at them all. He might have reluctantly acquiescent to the fitting, but he was going to draw the line at some things. It was bad enough the tailor had conversed loudly with Balin about the style of clothing he would like to see Bilbo in, without asking for the hobbit’s input. There was no telling what they would come up with if he let them do whatever they wanted to him, like dressing him in gold or diamonds and such nonsense, when a nice new coat and silk waistcoat would be fine enough for the occasion. Bilbo was a hobbit, no way around that, and there would be no dressing him up to hide that fact, so Bilbo thought it silly to even try. In fact the only reason he was even allowing this was because Balin had said Thorin would be pleasantly surprised.

Bilbo glared at the velvet curtain over Draupnir’s shoulder. The things he went through to please his dwarf, he thought. Thorin better appreciated this.

Glóin laughed at something the tailor said in Khuzdul and made a gesture towards Bilbo. “The hobbits like soft colors, nature, and such. I don’t think he’d allow you to put him in black.”

Before Draupnir could reply, Bilbo blanched. “Of course not! Black is usually only worn when you are in mourning.”

The dwarves ignored him, except Hork, who filled Bilbo’s wine cup once the hobbit had drained his in frustration. He rather hated being ignored in a situation like this. Bilbo had half a mind to stomp off in only his smallclothes and robe to see if they even noticed.

Draupnir pursed his lips. “His skin is so pale though. He’d look lovely, like marble against obsidian. I had this outfit I made two summers ago for King Dain’s wife and I used this black satin and it just looked, Mahal’s beard, I cannot describe how lovely she looked. His majesty could not keep his hands off her and I’m almost half sure it led to his second son’s conception. It clung to the skin just–”

“We don’t need Thorin tearing Mister Baggins‘ clothes off him in public now,” Balin stressed, wincing when he caught sight of Bilbo’s stormy expression. “Let’s keep it ceremonial for the time being. Save any ideas you have like that for after the wedding.”

Draupnir sniffed obstinately, but seemed to let the matter go. “Fine. Bright colors then? You said the hobbits favor flowers.”

Glóin nodded. “All of them do, from what I can tell. Funny folk, they like their gardens and plant life, always outside in the sun tilling up the land. They remind me of tiny elves sometimes. Except, you know…” he trailed off noticing Bilbo’s still thunderous expression. Glóin’s face paled and he took a step back. “Nevermind.”

“I might have something,” the tailor tapped his chin and eyed Bilbo up and down. “He’s not a bad size and his colorings good for it. I don’t usually have things in pastels, but maybe something lighter than usual. Hork, get me the purple silk brocade!”

The assistant rushed to do as his master bided.   

“Lovely pattern, a deep violet color with just a tinge of blue, sprinkled about with tiny gold motifs,” Draupnir prattled on, unaware of Glóin and Balin’s bored expression. “I thought it might be too bold a color for a dwarf, so I’d originally planned to use it for a design one of the nobles from Dale had commissioned – though honestly, they didn’t deserve such lovely fabric with their cheap pocketbooks. I think our future consort is just the person for such fabric. Wait until you see it.”      

They all waited awkwardly for a moment for the young dwarf to return, Glóin and Balin taking delicate care not to glance anywhere below Bilbo’s neck, while Draupnir stared unabashedly at the hobbit’s rounded belly. When Hork returned he was carrying a half finished coat of purple cloth and three pairs of trousers in different colors that looked to be about Bilbo’s size.

“I brought some pants too,” Hork explained. “That way we can see what looks best with the coat.”

The tailor smiled happily at his assistant. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around. Now let’s see how the brocade looks against his skin, help him get dressed.”

Bilbo was forced to relinquish his robe, which Balin took hold of for safe-keeping, tucked under his arm at the hobbit’s urging. While Bilbo could dress himself quite fine without trouble, he let Hork help him anyways so he wouldn’t get poked by the needles still holding the unfinished sleeves against the front facing. Whichever human in Dale who’d ordered the coat originally, they were near enough Bilbo’s size that it fit almost perfectly. He freely admitted the cloth was beautiful, even by hobbit standards, for they did like bright colors and the brocade design looked very much like blooming gold flowers. It was very rich looking, no doubt, and the color so striking it drew the eye like a bright gleaming sapphire in a dark gloomy cave. The color also reminded the hobbit of Mistress Brown’s prized patch of bearded irises on a spring morning, their delicate petals frequently stolen by young lasses who used them to make eye shadow when they wanted to look fancy. The cloth was so light it didn’t feel like a coat, maybe instead like a long shirt, though it hung almost to Bilbo’s knees and he sort of felt like he was wearing a skirt.

Draupnir clapped his hands together and hid his smile behind the gesture, looking so elated even Bilbo caught himself smiling back in excitement. It seemed they’d come to some sort of agreement on one thing at least. The coat just needed to be fixed a bit, and then even Bilbo would concede to wearing it.

“I don’t like it,” Balin said, frowning at the tailor. 

“What?” Bilbo gasped, “It’s lovely! Even _I_ like it. Master Draupnir has a good eye for color, and though it’s a bit long, a quick hemming and it would be perfect.”

Draupnir gaped up at him, looking bewildered that Bilbo would defend him. “You think?”

“Of course,” Bilbo said, fingering the soft fabric between his fingers. “It’s pretty, and it’s not weighed down by gems or gold garnish sewed into the lapels or such. I rather like the printing too, not as bad as I originally imagined.”

Glóin raised an eyebrow but preferred not to say anything. 

“What do you think about my clothes?” Draupnir asked, almost suspiciously. He did a quick twirl so the hobbit could see all the special darts and pleating he’d done on the back to add extra volume. Bilbo wasn’t an expert on any type of sewing, but even he could tell the stitching was complicated to create such a bold design. 

“Well,” Bilbo bit his lips. Truthfully, it wasn’t as bad an outfit at first glance. Mostly all the gold jewelry drew too much of the hobbit’s attention away for him to appreciate the work of the garment. He could see the effort Draupnir put into his designs. “I’m not sure about all the accessories but you’re a dwarf so it’s understandable to wear a lot of gold. The fabric’s nice and so is the color. I think even the tailor in the Shire would be impressed with all the construction put into the garment. You must be very creative to come up with all these ideas yourself.” Bilbo thought it was best not to mention the fur boots at all.

“Most dwarves would consider my craft frivolous and unbefitting of a proud dwarf of Erebor.” 

Hork made a noise like a sheep with something caught in its throat, but Draupnir silenced him with a hand, waiting patiently for Bilbo to comment.

“That’s just silly,” Bilbo declared. “Sewing is hard work! You should be praised for being so expertly at something dwarves do not have an affinity towards. I hear you’re rather renowned for your creations even outside of Erebor.” 

An almost unholy light shone in the tailors eyes at Bilbo’s statement and he stepped forward and took the hobbit’s hand in his. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

“Oh, well,” Bilbo blushed. “I hope we will too. Seems to me a bit foolish, if you ask me to make someone mad, who can poke you with sharp things near important bits and get away with it. I’d also rather not have you dress me in something ridiculous in revenge for something I said or did. It’s for the best we are agreeable towards each other.”

The dwarf laughed, leaning forward to quickly place a light kiss against Bilbo’s knuckles. “You are wiser than most, hobbit. I think I’ll enjoy being your personal tailor and I’m going to make it so our King will be the envy of every dwarf in Middle-Earth once they get a look at you.”

Balin made a tutting noise somewhere behind them, but Bilbo’s focus was caught on the happy dwarf still holding his hand. He _was_ rather pleased to have satisfied the tailor with his answer. Bilbo could only imagine how it must have been growing up for Draupnir, who looked so happy and proud of his colorful fabric creations when every dwarf around him was getting dirty, working in mines digging for gold and gems or slaving away in the armory making beautiful deadly weapons. The tailor must seem like such an odd duck to the other dwarves, much like a hobbit who’d wanted to go on adventures instead of staying home in the Shire. Bilbo suddenly found he could relate to the dwarf.  

“I’ll trust you on that,” Bilbo said after a moment. “Glóin’s wife did say you were the best and I’d like to wear something that will please Thorin. Though, I would be happy if it’s not too revealing, please. I don’t want anyone tearing any garments off in some sort of lustful frenzy.”

Draupnir smirked mischievously. “Right, we’ll save that for the honeymoon.” He helped Bilbo out of the purple jacket and left the grey trousers on for now. “Now I’m going to prove to you I’m the best. Hork!” The assistant startled. “Bring me the outfits I finished today and also the blue velvet box. You know the one. Let’s see how _that_ one fits.” 

Bilbo opened his mouth to say something and instead snapped it closed before anything could pass. The assistant soon returned with a load of items anyways, distracting everyone’s attention away from the hobbit. The blue box was handled delicately, set upon a table by itself, while the other outfits were lined up for Balin and Glóin to look at. The dwarves hummed thoughtfully as they looked each set over, muttering to each other over a dark blue coat and nodding happily at one shirt made in a bright, shiny cloth that glittered like gold. Bilbo thought he could see a colorful red coat much like the one he had at home, but Balin quickly moved a furred green cloak over that one before Bilbo could suggest trying it on. 

Draupnir picked out the first outfit for Bilbo to wear, a warm burgundy coat that hung past his thighs with a gold belt to hold it around his waist. The designed stitched around the collar and sleeves were geometric, similar to the shapes Bilbo had seen on Thorin’s outfit. Under the coat was a white undershirt with a tiny blue crest over the heart, the material so supple it almost felt like Bilbo wasn’t wearing anything at all. The trousers were made from a heavy red diamond patterned cloth, reaching down to his ankles and brushing the top of the hair on his feet in a ticklish manner. Besides a few gold stitchings intermingled with the rest, the outfit was probably the least showy of the bunch.

“It fits good,” Bilbo said, pulling his arms back to check on the cut of the sleeves. It wasn’t very bad at all; in fact the hobbit quite liked it compared to anything else he’d seen. “I like it.”

Balin sighed heavily. “It’s too plain. We need something more… _grandiose_ for the future consort of Erebor.”   

Bilbo made a grunt of disagreement, but it went unheard as the others went back to perusing the pile of clothing Hork had brought. Fur lined coats and heavy brocaded leather trousers, anything one might and could imagine was thrust towards Bilbo to try on, each outfit even more glitzy than the last. 

Then Glóin, either in frustration about not finding something they all could agree on, or just simple curiosity, opened up the blue velvet box sitting by itself. He made a startled noise, drawing the other’s attention as he gently pulled the item out with a startled gasp. The coat in Glóin’s hand was a steel blue with silver and black latticework all about it and tiny crystals and pearls sewn into the cuffs and collar. It was about the same length as the red coat Bilbo had tried on earlier, with matching black trousers and a silver belt studded with even more gems and pearls.

“Now this!” The red-headed dwarf smiled, “This is what a proper husband to the King would wear.”

“I have to agree,” Balin chimed in, nodding along with Glóin. The older dwarf held the bottom of the coat up against Bilbo’s hand, smiling in satisfaction as he imagined the little hobbit wearing such lovely clothing for his King. Bilbo himself almost was afraid to touch it, feeling unworthy of such a grand coat. The garnishes looked so delicate and fragile in the light, sparkling brightly like dew drops in the morning sun light. Surely they didn’t expect Bilbo to wear something like that! He was certain Draupnir could only have made it for someone as important as Thorin, other than some measly hobbit.

Draupnir smiled indulgently. “It wasn’t originally commissioned by anyone, just something I’ve been working on in my spare time for fun. But once I showed part of it to the Princess, she agreed I should finish it right away before the coronation and gave me specific measurements. I thought it might be for one of the Princes, until I started to hear rumors around the Mountain. It was her idea to add the pearls, though she wouldn’t tell me why they were so important to the gown.”

“It’s way too–” Bilbo tried to say, only Draupnir had been drawn into the conversation about adding more gems to the facing to even out the ratio between pearls, and his voice was lost over the argument that broke out. Instead he just sighed in aggravation and let Hork undress him so he could try on the outfit. It wasn’t until everything was on and the assistant took a step back that the rest of the group went quiet. They all stared up at Bilbo in a strange way, Glóin muttering to himself in Khuzdul as Balin quickly put a hand over his mouth to silence him.

“I think we found the perfect one, don’t you think?” The older dwarf smiled merrily.  

 

 

They ended up staying past the designated time scheduled for the visit to the tailor. 

Still standing on the daises Draupnir had used to check the hobbit’s measurements, Bilbo watched as a beautiful red-headed dwarf in a purple skirt stalked behind the curtain, scattering a couple of shop assistants in her wake and scowling furiously around the room. She barely gave a glance to the half-dressed hobbit, instead walking right up to Glóin’s back and standing there angrily with her arms crossed. 

Bilbo knew right away who she was. 

She glared at Glóin’s back, the other dwarf hunched over in a huddle with Balin and Draupnir as they discussed the right accessories for the blue outfit, none of them aware of her entrance. When Glóin didn’t acknowledge her presence right away, she huffed and then kicked him right in the rump.

“Glóin!”

“Ovrimi, _my love!_ ” Glóin jumped back and almost tripped over Balin in his hast to appease his wife. The accountant grabbed her hand and kissed wildly up her knuckles past her wrist, apologizing between each breath. “I hadn’t forgotten, promise. We were just about to go. Come see the outfit we’ve picked out so we know what type of jewelry to choose from. Master Nyr will understand our delay.”

The female dwarf gave Draupnir a kind smile and let her husband move her over to the blue velvet box. “I’m sure whatever Master Draupnir came up with is just as lovely and perfect as every outfit he’s ever…” She trailed off as she looked at the blue coat. “Mahal’s beard!”

Glóin laughed, “I said the same thing! Mighty fine work, very good, I said to Master Draupnir. I don’t think our King will know what hit him when he sees his hobbit tomorrow. Thorin will think an elf had put an enchantment on him and that he’d still be sleeping!”

Ovrimi finally looked towards Bilbo, whose mood hadn’t improved as he’d gone ignored the rest of the fitting and was glowering heatedly at them all. His expression seemed to jerk her out of the spell of wonder the blue coat had put the others in and she pinched her husband to draw his attention away. Glóin yelped, giving his wife the moment she needed to close the blue box and hand it to Hork for safe keeping.

“Yes, well,” the pretty dwarf smiled. “Maybe some clothing for the hobbit right now would be better suited for our task today. His majesty would not like it if we took up all of Mister Baggins’ time when he’d made such arduous plans for the day.” 

Bilbo couldn’t have agreed more and sighed loudly in relief. 

Between the gentle prodding from Glóin’s wife and the threat of Thorin‘s wrath, soon Bilbo was quickly dressed into the red outfit he’d first tried on and his mood quickly returned to something more amiable. Bilbo gave Ovrimi an expression of such gratitude she giggled and nodded in understanding. The hobbit felt much like he’d just made an unexpected ally and wondered if the women of the Mountain were the only sensible lot of the dwarves.  

Bilbo took back his robe from Balin, thanked Draupnir for the clothes, and promised to be by tomorrow to pick up the outfit he was to wear to the coronation bright and early, so he wouldn’t conveniently forget. Ovrimi was shrewd and orderly, rushing Hork into helping Bilbo and apologizing to Draupnir for taking up so much of his time. Balin stayed behind to make the payments, though Bilbo tried to protest it wasn’t necessary. His complaints fell on deaf ears, and the older dwarf walked off with the tailor to haggle over the price. Glóin put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and led him towards the door, Ovrimi guiding their small group back into the network of hallways.

“We’ll have to be quick at the jewelers. I told Thorin we’d have you to him around three, and Gimli’s made to be in one of the competitions again later this evening. Not much time to do any browsing, so we’ll ask Master Nyr for some suggestion.”

Ovrimi gave her husband a pointed glance. “We’d have time for browsing if you hadn’t taken so long gabbing with Balin and Master Draupnir. Lucky for you, I was able to look around while I waited.”

“Oh?” Glóin said, hustling Bilbo after his wife. 

Giving the other dwarf a heady look over her shoulder, Ovrimi paused long enough to let her husband put his arm around her waist and kiss her cheek. “I think I might have seen something that will go perfectly with the outfit you chose.”

“I trust you on this,” Glóin said softly to her, and Bilbo ducked his head in embarrassment to be so close to them as they whispered sweet things to each other. He was happy that they were so obvious in love, but it was somewhat uncomfortable to be right next to them as they kissed so deeply. 

Master Nyr was a sharp-looking old woman, with dark brown hair streaked with strands of silver, curled up into a simple braid around the crown of her head. Her beard was sparse and twisted back into looping braids that connected somewhere behind her ears, large blue jeweled earrings hiding the intricate knot work. To Bilbo she looked a lot like Loni, with her dark hair and dark skin, but there was a perceptiveness to her that reminded the hobbit of his grandmother and her gaze was quite piercing as she looked him over.

“It’s a halfling,” she said, pursing her lips and eyeing the ragged robe clutched in his arms. 

“Hobbit,” Bilbo corrected, seeing how Glóin and Ovrimi weren’t going to defend him since they were so involved looking through the glass case full of jewelry. “I’m Bilbo Baggins, pleased to meet you.”

Master Nyr ignored his hand when he reached out to greet her, sniffing loudly and turning her nose up at him. “Halflings have no appreciating of a jeweler work. It would have been best for you not to come.”

“Oi!” Bilbo blushed, awkwardly putting his hand back into his pockets. “There’s no reason to be rude.”

“Master Nyr,” Ovrimi said as she pulled away from Glóin and came to Bilbo’s side. “This is the one I was telling you about. Master Balin requested you show Mister Baggin’s the royal jewels and let him pick from the lot for the coronation tomorrow. We were hoping you could show us to the back room.”

“You have permission?” The dwarf gave them both a leery glance and Glóin quickly stepped forward and handed her a sealed piece of parchment. She opened it and read it over quickly, snorting to herself when she folded it back up and stuffed it in her pocket. “This way then.”

She led them to the back through a heavy thick metal door, into a room with dark lighting and high granite walls. Each side of the wall was filled with shelves full of boxes, some open to display their glittering contents and others closed with large inscriptions on them. Everything around them glittered and sparkled, gems of every size imaginable and creations of gold so intricate Bilbo could scarcely believe they were made by hand and not magic. There was a pink diamond necklace with gems the size of Bilbo’s fist and what looked like a bracelet made completely from one large, black pearl. Diamonds and color gems were practically dripping down the walls as gold necklaces twinkled in the low light of the room, rings and bracelets covering the open shelves like mounds of treasures. On the far wall were crowns and tiaras, circlets and coronets in any kind of design imaginable, placed perfectly to exhibit each and every one.   

In the front and center – and obviously a place of importance – was a glass case holding a silver crown. It was beautiful in its simplicity, with no obvious gems or large jewels about the circlet portion. It was mostly a thick band of metal that fanned out like wings from the center into six sharp looking, feather-like half arches. The velvet inlay was a dark blue, with a sprinkling of tiny crystals about it that made it look like stars in a night sky. At the very top, was a gem shaped like an eight-point star, carved from a stone conceiving every color imaginable and shining with a light like the moon.   

“That’s Durin’s crown,” Ovrimi said softly. “The circlet worn on Durin the Deathless’s brow as he awoke in Mount Gundabad, and the rest made from the finest mithril in the mines of Khazad-dûm before the Balrog appeared in Moria. They say it is set with the shards of a stone much like the Arkenstone, placed there by Thorin’s forefathers many generations ago at the beginning of the Second Age. It’s one of the greatest treasures of Erebor and one of the oldest heirlooms from one of the first seven fathers’ of the dwarves.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Bilbo said in awe. It was true, he _had_ never seen anything like it before. The crown itself was beautiful, but the stone was magnificent. It was like standing in front of a fallen star. The gem glowed with such inner light the colors fluctuated between a bright white to a rainbow of colors, swirling like a raging sea and shining with the warmth of the sun. It enchanted the hobbit and he found himself taking a step forward.

“Careful,” Master Nyr put a hand to his chest to hold him back. “I just polished it and I won’t have silly halfling fingerprints all over it.”

“I wasn’t going to touch it,” Bilbo grumbled, blinking to clear his focus. “Is that the crown Thorin is going to wear when he is made King officially?” He could just imagine it, Thorin sitting regally atop his throne wearing that crown, a handsome smile on his face. There would be no one to say he wasn’t King with such kingly headgear upon his head. It gave Bilbo chills just thinking about it.    

“This is the crown of Kings,” Glóin answered, his voice low. “His majesty will wear it on special occasions to represent Erebor, but otherwise wear the crown gifted to him at birth.”

“Oh,” Bilbo sighed, not all together unhappily. He’d probably find himself doing unspeakable things to Thorin if the hobbit found him wearing that crown daily. For Bilbo’s peace of mind, he was happy to hear his dwarf would be wearing the usual crown Bilbo had seen him with.          

Master Nyr moved their party away from the coronation crown, and started pulling down some smaller, plainer circlets for Ovrimi and Glóin to examine. Bilbo was still in a state of awe, for even the plainer headgear was more magnificent than even he could imagine. 

Glóin gestured towards the hobbit. “He’s to be the King’s consort! You’re telling me this is the best you can do? He’ll need something more lavish than strips of silver! Where’s the gold and diamonds, we need something with blue to match his clothes. ”

The elder dwarf frowned, “I’ve worked with halflings--”

“Hobbits,” Bilbo interjected, squeezing his bundled robe to his chest and afraid to touch anything.

"–before and they don’t like the type of luxurious things as we do. He’ll wear something smaller or nothing at all. That’s how it usually is.”

“Why I’ve nev–” Ovrimi puffed up and her face turned red. Bilbo set a calming hand on her shoulder and hoped she wouldn’t take offence on his behalf. Truthfully he did think some of the grand crowns and such were too splendid for someone like him. He’d be afraid with every step he’d take that it would topple right off his head and break into a million glittering pieces. Besides, he was only accepting Thorin’s proposal, not being crowned himself.

“She’s right,” Bilbo admitted, holding a small plain circlet of silver in hand. “Something like this would be fine. Understated, but I don’t want to draw too much attention away from Thorin. It’s his day not mine.”

Both Glóin and Ovrimi pouted at him, while Master Nyr looked superior at her accurate prediction. While the husband and wife got into a small argument over how many gems were too many gems, Bilbo allowed the jeweler to place a couple of coronets on his head to test their size. There was one the hobbit found himself that he really liked, a simple band of mithril with a single arch and a thumbnail-sized moonstone in the middle. Other than the one gem there were a couple of runes etched along the side and wondering if it meant the coronet already belong to someone, Bilbo showed it to Nyr. 

She laughed unexpectedly. “This belonged to Thorin I, son of Thráin I, founder and first King of Erebor.”

“Oh!” Bilbo startled. He hadn’t known his Thorin was named after one of his forefathers. Bilbo would have to ask the dwarf to see his family tree when there was a better time for it. It would make for a good conversation with both sides of their families. Hobbits were particularly interested in genealogy because of their large families.

Master Nyr looked him over. “This one will do you well.” She then placed it on his head, and though it sat heavily, it didn’t snag on his pointed ears like some of the others. They both made careful adjustments, trying to work Bilbo’s curls out of the way and make sure it didn’t obstruct view of his braid. Once done, she brought him a mirror to look it over. The coronet stayed perfectly on his head like it was meant to be there. By then Glóin and Ovrimi were watching them with similar inquisitive expressions.

“Is that the one you like, Master Baggins?” 

Bilbo nodded, smiling at himself in the mirror. He did feel a bit silly wearing a crown, but it wasn’t something studded with jewels or overrun with diamonds like many of the others so it wasn’t bad. He rather liked it all around and thought he looked kind of striking with it on in the low light of the jeweler’s back room. His small crown didn’t hold up to Thorin’s coronation crown, but considering the situation, it would suit their purpose for the evening. Bilbo imagined he would look somewhat nice with it and the outfit Master Draupnir made him, and he couldn’t wait for Thorin to see him dressed up. 

Glóin stroked his beard and wrinkled his nose. “Well, it does match, I suppose. We can find some rings and bangles to make up for the lack of gemstones, and since Mister Baggins refuses to wear shoes maybe there’s some anklets he can wear?”

Bilbo cocked his head to the side and looked at Glóin. “Anklets?”

Master Nyr, who’d been placing the coronet Bilbo had chosen into its box, froze with the item halfway into the motion. “Oh,” she gasped, like the idea hadn’t occurred to her. “I think I might have something, a pair of crystal anklet that would be just perfect for an occasion like this.”

“Oh Eru,” Bilbo gasped, “Really, if it’s what I think, I’d rather not.”

But they were stronger than him and soon enough the hobbit found himself sitting in a chair with the oddest contraptions being tied around his feet and ankles. He groaned and put his head in his hands.

 

 

Bilbo felt frazzled and stressed by the time Glóin and Ovrimi felt satisfied with the jewelry they‘d chosen for him. They’d insisted he try on every type of jewelry they’d thought would look good with his outfit tomorrow. Blue gems and silver trinkets, there was a theme to every item they had found that caught their eye and insisted the hobbit try on each. Bilbo had had to insist adamantly that he didn’t need a ring for even one finger, much less every finger like Glóin suggested, and had to explain hobbit culture regarding the giving of rings. Ovrimi appeared charmed by the idea and was eventually able to talk Glóin down from his obstinate frenzy that Thorin’s consort shouldn’t go without the baubles. Master Nyr’s usual shrewd expression went curious and she pulled out a notepad and went off to the side for a couple of moments to write something down. 

In the end, they all came to a sort of an agreement that Bilbo would wear the coronet he‘d chosen, a simple silver chain necklace with blue stones, a bangle of mithril that used to belong to Thorin’s mother and was stamped with Durin’s crest, and the two crystal anklets that Bilbo hated more than any item they’d picked for him. He would rather wear shoes then the uncomfortable, dangly jewelry that pinched and pulled at his feet hair. Everything else was easy to work with but _those_. Only Gloin insisted he should wear them regardless of his comfort. 

As Bilbo waited out in the hall for Glóin to say goodbye to his wife, he watched the crowd of dwarves milling about the corridors and shops of the dwarven Kingdom. Children giggling as they played tag around their parents’ feet, elves and Men talking cordially with dwarves as they passed, shop keepers displaying some of their wares out in the spacious passages tunneling through the Mountain. It was such a pleasant day, and everybody looked so happy that Bilbo felt his mood improve. He hoped every day in the Mountain could be like this, minus the shopping excursion. If he hadn’t plans to meet up with Thorin, Bilbo would be content to spend the rest of his day sitting there watching people.   

In his dwarven clothes made by Master Draupnir, Bilbo blended in better than he usually did, and his presence went seemingly unnoticed by many of the dwarves clustered nearby, talking about the games and upcoming coronation. Some were speculating about who would win in the upcoming sprinters race and others talked about the feast likely to be prepared tomorrow after the ceremony. One particular couple drew Bilbo’s attention when they spoke Thorin’s name.  

“He wasn’t there today also,” one dwarf lass said to another, tittering girlishly. “Rumor has it he has a lover and is currently trying to court them. Dirmina told me the whole royal family is up in a commotion about it, trying to make sure everything’s perfect and goes smoothly. Everyone was starting to think his Majesty wouldn’t find his One.”

The other dwarf lass giggled, twining her long flaxen braids around her fingers. “He is getting _old_ , so I don’t blame them for worrying. I’d always thought him boorish until recently, but his smile is quite handsome now that I’ve finally seen it. And he fights really well for his age!” 

Bilbo smothered a laugh, looking away quickly unless they saw him, but keeping his ear towards the conversation. He couldn’t wait to tell Thorin his worst attribute towards the younger generation in his Kingdom was that he was _old_! Only a few grey hairs and already Thorin had lost his appeal, but thankfully not to Bilbo. He’d have to find _some way_ to reassure the dwarf of his appeal once he told him about this conversation. Bilbo could just imagine his indignant expression.  

The first dwarf whispered loudly to the other, “The story is that the King’s lover is a hobbit though. A halfling, can you believe it!”

“And what’s wrong with that?” The other dwarf yelled, putting a hand on her hips and frowning at her friend.  “A hobbit’s better than an elf, and I rather like the halflings myself. Father trades produce with a couple of farmers down in the Shire. They’re very kind and simple folk, not a bad bone in their body. And as long as this ‘rumored’ hobbit lover makes our King smile like he has been lately, I have no problem with it at all. When do you suppose the wedding will be? ”

“Oh! I hope spring –”

The rest of the conversation went unheard, since Glóin appeared at his side and started rattling off Bilbo’s schedule for tomorrow. The hobbit groaned and got to his feet, overjoyed their current tasks were over but exhausted by all the unnecessary fuss he’d gone through. Glóin rambled on about more duties he needed to attend to after his dinner with Thorin, and Bilbo secretly planned to spend as much time with his dwarf as he was able to avoid them. He didn’t want to meet up with councilmen or craft masters right after spending a romantic evening with his suitor. Bilbo just wanted to relax and pull his thoughts together before the big event tomorrow. 

Glóin led him through the hallways and vaulted atriums, up past the residential quarters and closer to the top of the Mountain. Eventually they came to a familiar hallway.

“I think that’s the spot I spilled soup all over Thorin,” Bilbo said, pointing to the door right in front of the Princes’ room. 

“Aye, we all heard about it,” Glóin grumbled. “Multiple times. At length.”

Bilbo smiled up at the dwarf. “From Thorin?”

“And the lads. Kili nearly had his hair shorn off because he wouldn’t let it go. Then the Prince told Dwalin, and Dwalin’s not known for letting his Majesty off so easily when it comes to a good teasing. The guard kept asking for reenactments until Thorin sent him off to pillage the Mountain side for blossoms and he came back muddy and sporting bruises. Wouldn’t say how he got them but Thorin wouldn’t stop smirking for a week after.” 

“We were both foolish then,” Bilbo admitted after a moment’s pause lost in memory, not too surprised to hear the other’s teased Thorin about how things played out so early in their relationship. “Neither one of us knew what we wanted from the other and we floundered in our desperation. I think half the time I disliked Thorin just as much as I was attracted to him.”

“Ah,” Glóin shifted uncomfortably at his side. “I hear that’s how it sometimes happens. A passionate hate turning to something else and enemies become lovers.”

“I didn’t _hate_ him,” Bilbo corrected, pausing with the dwarf in front the room he’d tried to enter so long ago when everything began. “He just had a foul temper and didn’t understand why I wouldn’t put up with that. We worked things out eventually, and now… here I am.”

Glóin gave the hobbit a soft smile, patting Bilbo on the back. “Here you are.”

Bilbo clutched his robe to his chest, suddenly afraid to step forward and knock on the door. He abruptly felt really silly in his dwarven made clothes, feeling like a child who’d tried on their parent’s outfit to imitate them. What if Thorin didn’t like it? What if he’d been expecting Bilbo to show up in his hobbit clothes? 

He shook his head and ran his hands through his tousled hair. It was irrational to think that the clothes he wore had any prediction towards how the day would play out. Bilbo only knew that he was anxious and worried, afraid that things weren’t perfect like they should be. His thoughts were running wild, he wondered what Thorin had cooked and was apprehensive about the third courting gift, and also unsure how the dwarf would handle the poem Bilbo had made for him.

Glóin waved a hand in front of Bilbo’s face. “You going to knock?”

Bilbo swallowed thickly. “Yes,” he stuttered out and then jerked forward to knock on the door before he could think better of it. The red-headed dwarf took a couple of steps back, leaving the hobbit standing alone in front of the door when Thorin yanked it open.

“I said _leave_ me–” He trailed off, eyes widening when he caught sight of Bilbo. The dwarf’s hair was wet and clinging to his bare chest, a towel wrapped loosely around his neck. Wearing only a pair of brown trousers, Thorin looked fresh and clean from a recent bath, even his cheeks scrubbed pink and beard neatly trimmed. Thorin blinked slowly, jaw snapping closed as he looked the hobbit over. 

“Bilbo,” the dwarf said softly, rocking back on his heels.

Shuffling his feet timidly, Bilbo bowed his head and tried to hide his blush. “Good morning, Thorin.”

The dwarf smiled sweetly back at him, opening the door wider and stepping back to let Bilbo inside. “Good morning yourself, Mister Baggins. I wasn’t expecting you just yet, but come in. Everything’s ready except me apparently.”

Bilbo bit his lips and glanced back towards Glóin, who took that as his cue to scramble away. Since it would be rude to follow after the red-headed dwarf and run away now, Bilbo took a hesitant step forward and into Thorin’s arms. He distantly heard the door click shut behind them as the King leaned down and took his lips in a searing kiss.

 

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to use Thorin’s coronation crown off Durin’s emblem, only with a few twists to make it a bit more ‘pretty’ looking I guess. Here’s what I referenced: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Durin  
> Also, Master Nyr doesn’t hate Bilbo because he’s a hobbit, she just thinks his race doesn’t appreciate the work she puts into her jewelry like dwarves do. She’s just prejudiced because she’s heard hurtful things in the past from hobbits about how tacky her merchandise is because they are so heavy in gems and such, things hobbits don’t really see a use for.


	31. Dessert before Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin get ready for dinner, in their own way. Dwalin’s starting to think he’s cursed or something.

****

 

At the first chaste kiss something snapped in Bilbo and his head went quiet. All he could sense was Thorin’s dry lips where they pressed against him, the heavy weight of the dwarf’s arms around his middle, and the sweet smell of soap and water. A lone, wet grey hair tickled against the hobbit’s cheek and dripped water down his shirt.

Bilbo surged forward suddenly, pushing Thorin back as he parted his mouth and accepted the slick press of tongue against his lips. Thorin gasped, startled for only a moment before he put his arms around Bilbo and pulled him closer, walking them backwards into the room. It turned wild and frenzied hands clutching at whatever they could get a hold of, fingers tangling in wet hair or large palms pressing against a bowed back. Thorin stumbled back into some furniture and almost overturned them both onto the floor.    

“Clothes,” Thorin grunted, and Bilbo didn’t know if he was talking about the thick wool the hobbit had been forced to wear or his own lack of clothing. Either way, Bilbo didn’t care. Instead he moaned greedily, biting sharply down on the dwarf’s bottom lip.

Thorin groaned, hands flexing almost painfully around Bilbo’s hips. 

Taking his tongue across Thorin’s lip, the hobbit sighed blissfully, trying to sooth the hurt he’d caused. He’d been angry before, but not necessarily at Thorin. In fact, the first glimpse of his dwarf in the door had been a great relief, like a dam had broken inside Bilbo and every bad thing that had happened during the day washed away and all that was left behind was the hobbit’s unspoiled love for the dwarf. Bilbo had been overcome by his feelings and couldn’t help but expressing it by practically mauling Thorin in his doorway. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more at the moment. 

One of Thorin’s hands ranked up his spine and clutched the back of Bilbo’s neck, pulling his head backwards so he could kiss deeper. A shiver went through him, like sparks of lightning, and Bilbo trembled in Thorin’s arms. Pulling him down by his unbraided hair, Bilbo’s mouth slotted wetly against Thorin’s and he licked inside the dwarf’s mouth, tongues dueling like two warriors. Heat was coiling in his belly until the hobbit thought he would burst into flames from it, moaning and making noises like he would die if they ever stopped. It felt like the hairs on his toes were even curling in pleasure.

“Bilbo,” Thorin rumbled, his stubble scratching against the hobbit’s soft cheeks as he pressed kisses to the side of Bilbo’s lips, moving along his jaw to nibble at his earlobe and startling a squeak out of the hobbit. 

Pulling back, Bilbo looked into Thorin’s bright, blue-grey eyes. They both paused for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes and breathing each other’s breath. Bilbo licked his lips, nursing the swollen orifice and catching the lingering taste of Thorin on his lips. There was something in Thorin’s gaze, something possessive and crazed, almost dark where his eyes were hooded with passion. Bilbo glanced him over quickly, taking in the dwarf’s rumpled appearance and eagerness. He let Thorin pull him closer until their bodies slotted together like two matching puzzle pieces.     

With his hands framing the dwarf’s face, Bilbo leaned forward to kiss his suitor gently. Their noses bumped against each other until they clicked back into place, the dwarf’s mouth opening up like a flower under Bilbo ministrations. Thorin shook like a leaf, his hands trembling against Bilbo’s waist. It was a heady feeling, the power that Bilbo felt over the dwarf. How he could make such a great ruler shudder in his arms and whine in desperation.

“Bil-bo,” Thorin repeated, knees going weak and awkwardly fumbling backward into a chair and taking the hobbit along with him. They sprawled messily, Bilbo’s knees knocking against Thorin’s hip, clinging to each another as they continued to kiss feverishly and uninterrupted. The new height gave the hobbit some advantage, forcing him to lean over the dwarf as their tongues wrestled zealously with one another.

Bilbo scratched his nails gently down Thorin’s bare chest, catching the dwarf’s shocked inhale in his mouth.  “Thorin,” Bilbo sighed, nipping at the King’s prickly chin. He’d never given it much thought before, but he was rather fond the dwarf’s stubble. While the beard Thorin had had at one point would give him something to tug on when the thrill took him, Bilbo liked the bristly graze from the shorn hair against his lips and chin, sending shivers down his spine and leaving the hobbit gasping.     

Leaning back enough to allow Bilbo his exploration, Thorin threaded his fingers through the hobbit’s golden curls, smiling softly at Bilbo in his lap. “I’m a bit surprised.”    

Nuzzling at the sensitive skin of Thorin’s neck, Bilbo suckled a bruise high enough under his ear that the dwarf’s long hair could cover it easily. His hips rolled forward and against Thorin’s abdomen, the muscles hard against his growing passion. “Why?” he whispered, pulling back to examine his work. He had half a mind to make it into a heart instead of a sloppy circle, just so he could see Thorin’s expression when he saw it later. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin sighed, seemingly unable to stop repeating the hobbit’s name. His expression was dreamy; smiling tenderly at Bilbo with such care the hobbit felt his heart skip in his chest. The comfort and compassion he experienced – there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Thorin, nothing at all. If only he could keep that expression on Thorin’s face for the rest of their days.

Something warm flared up in his stomach and it was like his whole body had been set ablaze. 

“Let me,” Bilbo mumbled, cheeks turning pink under Thorin’s watchful gaze. “I just want…”

“You can have anything,” the dwarf said promptly, slouching back in the chair and allowing Bilbo his exploration. Bilbo’s fingers combed down Thorin’s wet hair, following drops of water down his broad shoulders and clavicle to his abdomen. Thorin was awfully large for a dwarf, taller than most and practically towering over Bilbo when they stood near each other. It was an exhilarating feeling, knowing someone so strong could be so tender with him, would allow Bilbo this submission. Thorin’s passive posture sparked something wanton in him and Bilbo had to reign himself in or spend himself there in Thorin’s lap fully dressed.  

After a moment watching Thorin’s chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing, the hobbit leaned forward and placed a loving kiss on Thorin’s breast bone, right over the King’s heart. Thorin sucked in a breath like he’d been shocked, shifting Bilbo in his lap as he tried to contain his treacherous reactions. Bilbo could feel Thorin’s length jerk against his thigh.

“Sorry,” Thorin whispered, not looking very apologetic at all. 

Bilbo hummed and let his mouth travel south, tongue flicking out to tease one of Thorin’s nipples in retaliation. He hadn’t minded the dwarf’s response. In fact, Bilbo rather thought he’d like to see if he could duplicate the reaction as his teeth scrapped against the pert nub.  

Thorin groaned and took a shuddering breath, neck stretching out like he was trying to contain himself, trying to keep from shaking apart like a tree in autumn. His hand squeezed Bilbo’s hips and grasped farther down, palming at the hobbit’s rump and pulling him flushed against his body in a slow, steady rhythm. Both seeking that pleasure they knew was just out of reach. “You shouldn’t…” Thorin choked off, grimacing like he was in agony. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo rasped, moving to the other nipple to give it similar attention as his hands wandered farther south, taking a moment to curl his fingers into the hair covering the dwarf’s chest. Giddy excitement took over the hobbit as the dwarf under him gasped helplessly for air. Thorin’s heart rumbled like thunder, beating out a staccato of noise that roared in the hobbit’s ears. “Thorin, my love, my King…” Bilbo said between each kiss he peppered on the dwarf’s body.

Ignoring Thorin’s distressed whimpering, Bilbo pulled back enough to give himself room to slip his hands between their rutting bodies. He tugged at the waistline of Thorin’s trousers, wondering how far he could take this before either lost complete control. He had permission now, from the clan matriarch, to tests Thorin’s ability as a lover. It wouldn’t be unseemly for them to do this now, though midday and on a chair wasn’t an ideal time or place. The risk of someone walking in on them was higher, but the pleading look on Thorin’s face was a deciding factor. He looked pained and desperate, lips bitten almost bloody as he tried to restrain himself. 

Bilbo rewarded his efforts with a small bite to his collarbone. Slowly, the hobbit began to unbutton Thorin’s trousers, one brass button at a time. “I’m not – _I want_ ,” Bilbo whispered against Thorin’s skin, “I’ll make it good, I promise.” 

“Ah, yes” Thorin moaned, hands going to Bilbo’s thighs as the hobbit’s own unhurriedly pressed farther down into the clothes, searching for their goal. The dwarf pressed a distracted kiss to Bilbo’s temple, panting wildly. 

Thorin’s stomach jumped and he sucked in a heavy breath when Bilbo’s hand went around his turgid length. 

A side door banged open and Dwalin stomped into the room, head down looking at the clothing in his arms. Thorin jerked upright and made an unseemly noise, Bilbo’s grip tightening almost painfully in surprise as he was almost unseating from the dwarf’s lap.

“Here, Ori had these from the other day, maybe….” Dwalin broke off, doing a double take as he stared gobsmaked at them both. Bilbo squeaked, pulling his hands from Thorin’s trousers and burying his head against Thorin’s hairy chest. His nerves fled from him the moment they were no longer alone and Bilbo hoped that Dwalin couldn’t see _everything_ they were doing. 

The guard looked aghast at them both. “You have got to be joking!”

“Get out!” Thorin roared, face turning as red as one of Bilbo’s prized tomatoes. 

Dwalin ignored his King and instead stared at Bilbo. “You’re here early.”

“And you’re fired,” Thorin growled, turning aside awkwardly and hiding Bilbo from view.

“You can’t fire me!” Dwalin looked appalled, putting his hands on his hips and scowling at them both like they were two naughty school children, which seemed apt because that was what Bilbo felt like, a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar before dinner. Bilbo was so embarrassed that they’d been caught. If Dwalin told the others what he saw Thorin and Bilbo doing before their engagement, the hobbit would throw himself from the top of the Mountain to avoid the humiliation.

“Yes, I can,” Thorin said grumpily, adjusting his trousers. “Then I’m going to have to banish you. That will keep you from walking in without knocking.”

Dwalin snorted, unimpressed. “You can’t do that either.” He glanced between Bilbo and his King. “Besides, I’ll tell the hobbit about the incident on Fili’s naming day.”

Thorin sucked in a breath through his teeth. “You wouldn’t.”

Smirking quite evilly, Dwalin nodded. “I’m sure he’d like to know about your fascinations with--”

“ _Stop!_ ” Thorin yelled, hands slapping over Bilbo’s ears. “Traitor! I was drunk and you swore to never mention that unpleasant incident again.” 

Their conversation rambled on in Khuzdul while Bilbo sat pouting in Thorin’s lap. He had to force the dwarf’s hands away, to nurse the hurt Thorin had caused when he’d reacted so suddenly. Bilbo would have to remind him about the sensitivity of a hobbits ears at a later date when the King wasn’t arguing with his subject while half-naked with a hobbit in his arms. 

Dwalin made a motion with his hands that must have meant something because Thorin bristled like Master Pumpernickel confronted with a bath.

“I will have your beard!”

“Ha!” Dwalin laughed flatly, looking angrier than Bilbo had ever seen him. “To make up for your own shortcomings, I imagine.”

“My lack of beard is not my doing,” Thorin growled back.

Bilbo startled, pulling back from Thorin and frowning up at the dwarf. “What does that mean?”

“Um…” Thorin blinked, his anger suddenly fizzling out as he remembered the hobbit’s presence.

Brows furrowed, Bilbo looked the King over, the confusion of Thorin’s comment diminishing any unihibited passions he’d had left. Now all he felt was dread and anxious apprehension bubbling in his stomach, feeling like he was missing something that was obvious to everybody but him. “Are you saying it’s my fault?”

“No!” Thorin said, voice cracking. “No, Bilbo. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Thorin looked away, eyes glancing wildly around the room until they landed on Dwalin. The guard sighed loudly. “It was a joke.”

“See,” Thorin turned back to look at Bilbo. “It didn’t mean anything. Don’t worry on it.”

Bilbo wrinkled his nose up, still feeling doubtful of the conversation. “If you say so…” 

Dwalin rolled his eyes and tossed the clothes in his arms at Thorin’s face, leaving the dwarf sputtering as Bilbo slipped out of his lap. Thankfully, the hobbit’s own thick clothes hid the effects their eagerness had caused him, and the coat was long enough he almost looked unaffected expect for his messy hair and swollen lips. Unlike Thorin, who looked like he just fought a round against an angry orc. There was little doubt to what the dwarf had been up to with his trousers unbuttoned and tented, love bites blooming on his neck, and tiny red scratched from Bilbo’s fingernails down his chest. 

Thorin groaned, running his hands down his face and glaring at Dwalin from under heavy eyebrows. His anger seemed less heated this time. “You have dismal timing, my friend.” 

Scoffing, the other dwarf leaned back against a table set up in the middle of the room and crossed his ankles. Nonchalantly smiling pleasantly at them both, “Not from where I’m standing.”

“You won’t be standing any longer once I get a hold of you.”

If anything, Thorin’s irritation this time only caused Dwalin to smile wider, the other dwarf’s expression was almost gleeful as he watched his King growl like an angry warg. Bilbo shyly took a step back, smoothing out his red coat and adjusting the belt to fit snug around his waist. His head still whirled with confusion, thrown off by his own brazen actions and the meaning of Thorin’s comment. The familiar dread that things were moving too fast rose up inside him.

Bilbo wondered to Eru what he’d been thinking and couldn’t stand there indifferently in front of the two after what had happened. 

“Um,” Bilbo interrupted Dwalin and Thorin’s odd stare-off, like they’d been trying to communicate a disagreement with their eyebrows. “Can I use the bathroom?”

Dwalin sniffed and pointed towards a back door almost hidden behind a large tapestry. With a quick nod, Bilbo purposefully avoided Thorin’s gaze and scampered back. “Thank you,” he muttered. 

The bathroom was opulent, which wasn’t too much of a surprise to Bilbo anymore. The tan and white tiles encases the floor and walls, the ceiling domed with inlaid semiprecious stones and translucent marble. The design on the floor was geometric, which is usual for dwarves, and a repetitive six-point star pattern Bilbo had seen throughout the Mountain. The walls look nearly completely white, pristine marble, colorless except where the light knot work of cream patterns ran every few meters and up towards the crown molding. 

The top-most point of the domed ceiling was a sight to behold all on its own. A solid gold circle took up the center where it radiated out like the sun, its rays of gold slowly turning paler as it expanded like a gilded cage over the middle of the room. Set into the heart of the room was a simple circular reflecting pool, which on closer inspection turned out to be a bath of sorts. Bilbo kneeled down to test the water, finding if perfectly warm and sweet smelling.

Bilbo wondered if this been where Thorin had taken a bath? 

Blushing at the thought and trying hard not to imagine his dwarf naked, Bilbo held back a whimper. He could almost completely visualize Thorin leaning back along the ridge with crystal clean water lapping against his body, hands up and beckoning Bilbo to join him.

In a partitioned off alcove was a place to relieve oneself and across from that was a sink and mirror. Bilbo headed towards the sink, splashing cold water from the gold tap onto his face and running his wet hands through his hair. His reflection startled him, his cheeks flush pink and his eye wide and bright. The skin around his jaw rubbed raw from Thorin’s stubble, and his lips were so red it looked like he was wearing makeup. The collar of Bilbo’s shirt was mussed and his fine clothing disheveled and partially wet where he’d leaned against Thorin. Looking at him, one would hardly know Bilbo had just spent a few hours with one of the greatest tailors in Erebor, he looked like he’d been mauled by a amorous hedgehog.  

Finding a spare hand towel in the cabinet, Bilbo pat down his face and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves. The bathroom was very serene, quiet and closed off from the rest of tension in Thorin’s room. The lightening was a tranquil yellow from the crystal lanterns hanging all about the ceiling, glimmering peacefully and reflecting on the small pool of water. 

There were three apple blossom branches in a turquoise vase on a vanity table set in the back center against the wall, where two fluffy red towels were scattered on the floor at the legs of the furniture. They were still a bit wet, probably from Thorin’s bath. Bilbo picked them up and folded them, barely giving it much thought until they reminded him of something.

Bilbo suddenly panicked. What had happened to his robe! 

He rushed out of the bathroom. Dwalin and Thorin were wrestling on the floor, the guard in a headlock and yelling loudly in Khuzdul. Then, Dwalin rocked back and heaved Thorin over his shoulder, slamming the other dwarf onto a ruffled pile of patchwork red cloth. Bilbo muffled his shriek of horror behind his hands.

“No!”

Dwalin froze, holding his bloody nose against his wrist. “He’s okay, lad. Just a bit of roughhousing.”

Thorin was slowly picking himself up off the floor, rubbing at his aching knees. 

“No, no, no.” Bilbo felt tears start to prick at his eyes. He didn’t think the tin could hold up to Thorin’s weight, much less when the dwarf was slammed down onto it like that. While the key might survive, the fragile letter from Frerin would crumble to pieces, and Thorin would be mortified to find out what he’d done. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin rasped, getting to his feet and holding his arms open. “I’m fine. We’ve grappled like this before and I’ve sustained worse.”

Bilbo pushed Thorin aside and knelt over his robe, the cloth clenched in his hands as he searched the pockets. His hands trembled uncontrollably and the hobbit had to control his breathing or risk panicking so bad he passed out. It was foolish of him to have forgotten about the precious items and Bilbo would never forgive himself if either were damaged.  

“Bilbo?”

“What’s he got there?” Dwalin asked, helping Thorin back up. 

Bilbo found the letter he made for Thorin, but the tin box was mysteriously absent. Checking the pockets again and looking around, Bilbo’s alarm started to grow. He stared imploringly up at the two dwarves and hoped there was a chance he hadn’t lost the box. 

“Have you seen a tin box, one that might have fallen out of my robe?”

Thorin squinted at him in confusion while Dwalin shook his head. Reaching down, the dwarf King hauled Bilbo to his feet, pulling the hobbit into his arms and holding Bilbo’s head against his chest. “No. Why?”

“Oh no,” Bilbo whimpered, closing his eyes tightly and trying to hold back tears. “Oh Thorin, I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever for?” Thorin asked, rubbing a hand soothingly down Bilbo’s back.

Bilbo didn’t answer, instead he concentrated on the heavy thumping of Thorin’s heart beat, wondering how he was going to explain how he lost the contents of the golden box so soon after discovering them. For all the hobbit knew, the key was a very significant item and the letter obviously had a very important sentimental value to the dwarf. There was a chance the night would be ruined by the confession, but Bilbo couldn’t keep it from Thorin even if he wanted to. He deserved to know the truth.

“I lost–”

“You looking for this?” Dwalin called out, crouching over and picking up the small tin box from between the cushions of the seat Thorin and Bilbo had been in earlier. He shook it and the key made a loud clanking noise in the hushed room.   

“Don’t–” Bilbo pushed himself out of Thorin’s arms and rushed to take the box from Dwalin.   
“Be gentle,” he admonished. 

Raising an eyebrow at the hobbit fussing, Dwalin shrugged and looked unconcerned. “What is it?”

“It’s –” Bilbo raised his head and caught the two dwarves watching him curiously. Blushing wildly, Bilbo bit his lips and stared at Thorin. He couldn’t talk about such serious matters with the King’s trousers still unbuttoned. Just the reminder of what they’d been doing just minutes earlier caused his chest to seize up and breath to catch. “Maybe you should get dressed?”

Thorin blinked in surprise, looked down to take in his half-dressed state, and then glared at Dwalin. “Sorry, Bilbo, I was going to but _someone_ got in the way.”

Dwalin scoffed, crossing his arms and glaring back. “Me? I’m not the one who tried to take off the little clothes you had on.”

Before another argument could start up, Bilbo hurried Thorin off to get dressed. The dwarf reluctantly slinked off to his bedroom through an archway connecting the rooms together. Once gone, Bilbo quickly checked on the contents of the tin. He breathed a loud sigh of relief when he saw both key and letter were intact.

Bilbo took the time while Thorin dressed to study the area around him. The walls were the same dark green rock that most of the Mountain’s architecture was made from, snaking bits of gold inlaid into the stone like feather brushes on parchment. There were tapestries where Bilbo would have thought windows might be if the Mountain provided them, depictions of great dwarf battles, red, fire breathing dragons, and distant blue swirling seas. The furniture was all practical, which wasn’t too much of a surprise to Bilbo considering Thorin’s personality, but even the wood end tables were carved by such expert handcrafters and so beautifully designed that just one item was probably worth more than all the furniture combined in Bag End. The fireplace was a monstrous thing, the inner hearth large enough for Gandalf to walk under comfortably and the mantel made from pitch-black stone carved into figures of the many races populating Middle-Earth. Over that hanging on the panel was an oversized golden crest of the line of Durin.   

Dwalin watched Bilbo cautiously inspect the room. “It’s something, isn’t it.”

“It’s beautiful,” Bilbo said, running his hands over the oak bookcase that went as high as the ceiling. Most of the books looked unused; their spines un-cracked and pristine were they faced outward. One shelf, about Thorin’s height, had a couple of books on Westron warfare and a few more in Khuzdul and they seemed to be the only ones worn by use.   

“He’ll be moving to the King’s room after tomorrow. This will be Fili’s room soon enough.”

“Oh,” Bilbo coughed, wondering if that meant if any of the personal items were Thorin’s or just regular decorations. 

Dwalin continued on, talking more to himself than Bilbo. “Fili’s old enough anyways for his own room and it’s about time he stopped sharing with Kili. Those two boys get into enough trouble when they’re together and especially when in an enclosed space, so it’s good for them to spend time alone. They’d share a bed still if Dis let them, but their father insisted not to. It’s cute how they curl up together like kittens when we’re on patrol.” 

Laughing a little, Bilbo looked quickly over Thorin’s writing desk. There was a map with what looked like chest pieces shaped like dwarves and elves over it, and Bilbo spotted a picture of the Lonely Mountain inked into the drawing. He curiously slipped it out from under some of Thorin’s correspondents.

“Don’t mess with that,” Dwalin growled, hand slamming down over the desk and covering the map. Bilbo squeaked and hopped back, his tin box clutched in his hand.

“S-sorry.”   

Dwalin looked him over suspiciously. “What _is_ in the box?”

Resisting the urge to hide the thing in his coat pocket, Bilbo reluctantly opened the top and let the dwarf peek inside at the contents. Both of Dwalin’s eyebrows rose when he saw the key, mouth pursing in a frown.

“Is that…”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo shrugged, stopping himself from jerking away when the guard picked the metal key up and held it up to his eyes. “It was in something Thorin gave me. From his brother.”

“Oh,” Dwalin intoned, setting it back carefully. “I understand.”

Bilbo opened his mouth to ask about Frerin but his words abruptly left him when Thorin stepped out into the room and held his arms open wide. “Is this suitable?”

“Yes,” Bilbo rasped, the same time Dwalin grumbled out a “No”.

Thorin laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the high ceiling. “Well, seeing as it is my dear Mister Baggins I’m trying to impress, I’ll have to go with his response. Dwalin, you can go now, I heard Dori is waiting to speak with you.”

Grunting something unkind in Khuzdul, Dwalin gave Bilbo one last piercing look before heading towards the door he came in by. He only paused for a moment to rolling his eyes at Thorin’s charming smile and shook his head. “Idiot,” he said, almost fondly. 

Bilbo turned his attention back to Thorin as the door closed behind the dwarf, staring in awe at the outfit the King had procured. It was a fine piece of work, a long blue coat and trousers with silver and gold embroider all along the hem and collar. The shapes looking like a cross between a growing tree sprouting flowers or a large curling vine of shimmering stars. Bilbo thought the most surprising thing was the silver waistcoat Thorin was wearing over a white undershirt. With his long hair and braids pulled back into a low ponytail, the dwarf almost looks hobbitish.    

 “You look nice.” 

“Thank you,” Thorin smiled, straightening his sleeves. Bilbo wondered if the outfit was new or something the dwarf had already but never bothered wearing. It looked a peculiar mix of dwarvish and hobbitish design, the coat and trimmings like most of the dwarves clothes, but the fashion very similar to hobbits. The colors of the clothes were aged paler than what Thorin usually wore, and it reminded Bilbo of the hydrangeas that grew in the back of the house and bloomed in summer. They were the first flowers planted by his mother after Bungo built Bag End for her.    

Forgoing his customary belt, Thorin held the outer layer open like a blue butterfly with its wing’s spread, letting Bilbo see the embroidered pockets sewn on the inner facing. Bilbo came closer to test the cloth between his fingers, surprised by the extraordinary, silky cotton. He’d never seen such fabric before, but he rather liked it.   

“I like your clothes also,” Thorin said after it became almost too quiet. “I was not expecting you in dwarven ware. You look very lovely.”

Bilbo felt his ears burn at the praise and yanked his hand back. “T-thank you. Master Balin and Master Gloin helped me get dressed.”

Thorin hummed, running his hands up the hobbit’s arms and flicking the collar between his thumb and forefinger. Bilbo felt his breath catch when the dwarf’s fingers brushed against his throat. 

“Speaking of,” Thorin said, pulling his hands back reluctantly. “I have something for you. Your third gift.”

“Oh!” Bilbo squeaked, wondering why he felt such a nervous panic at Thorin’s announcement. “Shouldn’t we eat first? It’s best I believe to open presents on a full stomach.”

 “Really? Is this a hobbit custom?” 

Thorin inquired so sincerely Bilbo had to shake his head in answer. “No, but…” He thought of a better answer, for some reason just reluctant to get to the gift portion of the night. “I haven’t eaten since this morning and I am hungry. Can we please have dinner first?”

The look the dwarf gave him almost made his knees weak and Bilbo leaned back against a chair to catch his balance. “Of course we can. Tonight is for you and your pleasures are mine to grant. If you want to eat first, I am only too willing to satisfy you. Though I must warn you my meals are not quite as grand as the ones you make, but it turns out I am not incompetent. Bombur had reassured me I shall not make you sick afterwards.”

Bilbo blinked. “That’s … a relief, I suppose.” 

“Let me summon the servants,” Thorin stuck his head out the door and yelled something in Khuzdul. There was a flurry of sounds, like many steel-toed boots against the floor and the clanging of silverware. Bilbo had a sudden trepidation that there had been a whole host of dwarves waiting outside in the halls while he pawed at their King like a cat in heat.

One by one a crowd of similar dressed dwarves filed into the room, each carrying an item of food on a silver platter. Bilbo had to take a step back or risk being trampled on.

“Careful,” one dwarf said, winking at the hobbit as he helped Bilbo avoid having his feet stepped on. 

“Nori!” Bilbo yelped, gaping up at the dwarf.

“Shhh! Don’t let Thorin know I’m here,” Nori whispered, using the other servants as a shield to avoid the King’s attention. 

It was obvious now that Bilbo got a good look at him that the dwarf _was_ Nori, though his hair wasn’t in it customary style and he was in servants clothing. His eyebrows and beard were still braided like usual, but his ginger hair was pulled back into one long braid instead of his star-styled design. Bilbo’s mind boggled at why the dwarf thought it prudent to come in disguise instead of just visiting like a normal person. Unless it was Nori’s job to be a server, though the hobbit couldn’t really see the dwarf in the profession. Thinking back on it, Bilbo had never got a definite answer on what the dwarf actually did.

“I’ll be right outside the door with the others,” Nori whispered, pulling away to file out with the other servants. “Yell if there’s trouble.”

“Um… alright?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow but made no further comment. He wondered what kind of situation Nori was expecting. It was just dinner.

Nori was the last one to slip out and by then the smell of food was making Bilbo’s stomach gurgle. There were so many items on the table there nearly wasn’t enough room for their plates and goblets. Steam rose off the blackened meats, bubbly juices of unknown origins leaking out of casseroles’, and oddly colored butter melted down the warm breads. A large cauldron of something orange and pungent took up the center of the table, a fish head bobbing at the top. It at least smelled good, despite the fact that some of the dishes didn’t look too appetizing.

Thorin leaned over the table and stuck his finger into the soup. He popped it out and stuck it in his mouth, tasting it. Bilbo held his breath. When Thorin didn’t immediately fall over or get sick, some of the tension left the hobbit and he sighed softly. 

Smiling, the King pulled one chair out and gestured for Bilbo to sit. “It’s ready, would you like to eat?”

    

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kili/Fili can be seen as slash or not. I always flip-flop on whether I like them as a couple or just really close brothers. Hopefully this sort of appeases both sides. Poor Dwalin, he gets the brunt of Thorin’s wrath and yet Thorin probably wouldn’t get anywhere with Bilbo if it wasn’t for Dwalin. Friendship with the King is a double-edged sword apparently.


	32. Generosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is served and the first of the gifts are exchanged.

****

 

Bilbo held the spoon up to eye level, looked at Thorin, and then looked back at the fish’s glassy eyeball floating in his soup. He’d never had a meal stare back at him before, it was sort of a novel experience. Most of the fish he cooked at home were cleaned and beheaded before they even hit the frying pan, much less his stomach. He tried to remember if he’d seen Bombur cook fish in a similar fashion before and then wondered if it was just Thorin’s unique way of cooking.

“Um, did you make all of this yourself?”

Thorin tore into his leg of meat, chewing messily. “Yesh,” he mumbled through a mouthful. “It was a bit more challenging than I expected, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” 

“Ah,” Bilbo said, barely holding in his strangled whine. Really there wasn’t much to say after that without hurting Thorin’s feelings; the dwarf seemed so proud of himself. Bilbo tried to discreetly push the soup aside for something more identifiable, but Thorin’s eyes were on him and it was hard to do much besides eat what was in front of him under that watchful, imploring stare. Bilbo swirled the orange concoction around with his silverware, trying to think of an excuse to get out of eating it. If he knew what Thorin had put in it, he could abruptly admit to a nameless allergy. Sadly, the only thing distinguishable was the fish.

“Oh!” Thorin said suddenly, startling Bilbo. “I forgot. Here,” the dwarf passed over a basket of hard brown bread with some cheese on top. “Sprinkle a bit of crust over it. It tastes better that way.”

Bilbo laughed nervously, rather doubting of Thorin’s advice. “Right, thank you.”

Thorin gave him a queer look, but soon was distracted by his meal again. The dwarf was slurping loudly at his silver chalice between bites of rabbit. Bilbo wouldn’t have minded some rabbit of his own, but Thorin had thrust the bowl of soup down in front of him before the hobbit could reach for anything else. Thorin explained that the soup was a dwarven tradition, a meal made traditionally in the battlefield for brothers-in-arms and something Thorin was ‘unmatched’ at making. Whether this was true or not Bilbo would have to ask Dwalin. The hobbit wouldn’t put it past the other soldiers to agree with Thorin simply because he was a King and they didn’t want to upset him. Bilbo was quickly learning that Thorin’s puppy-dog eyes were as lethal as Odo’s, if not more so, and somehow denying the dwarf what he wanted was becoming impossible. Bilbo would bet the fur on his feet that Thorin had been a right menace as a child. He could see the dwarf now, shorter and chubbier, with a mess of black curls, begging for desserts and pouting when he didn’t get his way.

Bilbo would have to ask Ori if there were any early portraits of Thorin. After the fretful evening the dwarf was putting him through now, Bilbo would need the amusement to appease his shattered nerves.

Thorin continuously glanced up at Bilbo as he ate, eager to catch Bilbo’s reaction to his meal.

With plenty of trepidation, Bilbo slowly put a spoonful of orange soup in his mouth. At first he tried to just swallow it quickly, hoping he wouldn’t get a taste of what he’d eaten, but that turned out impossible. The broth burst across his tongue in an explosion of flavorsome spices and succulent juices, causing the hobbit’s mouth to salivate as he swallowed it down. The meat was so tender it melted like butter at the first bite. Bilbo’s eyes bulged and he started to cough, pressing a napkin to his mouth so he wouldn’t spit it out. 

Thorin set his kebab of beef slices down and watched him with concern. “Are you okay?”  

“Y-yes. Sorry, just, went down the wrong pipe.” Bilbo wiped at his tears, eyes watering from the unexpectedly poignant flavor of the dish. Though a bit more seasoned than the hobbit was used too, apparently it seemed the soup tasted better than it looked. Bilbo wondered if that meant Thorin had some talent to cooking and if the other dishes would be just as surprisingly good? “It’s… excellent. Really.”

Thorin’s smile was almost blinding, his teeth showing and lines around his eyes creasing up in pleasure. “I’m glad. It is my specialty. I had to keep the others from sneaking off with a bowlful while I was gutting the eel.”

Bilbo paused with another spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth. “Eel?”

“Yes,” Thorin smiled, looking proud of himself. “I caught them myself down in the river that runs under the mountain. They are usually found in the rocks by the shore and come out at night. I had Bombur show me how to catch them and he watched me prepare the meat since the blood is toxic unless you cook it right. They are a dwarf delicacy, said to help promote the growth of hair on one’s chin. Tell me how you like it once you get a taste.”

“T-toxic?” Bilbo laughed uneasily, suddenly starting to sweat. While his confidence in Thorin’s cooking had taken a sudden leap with the soup, the hobbit was still unsure about the idea of Thorin cooking something usually considered inedible and _deadly_. Bilbo would hardly trust Bombur’s expertise if he hadn’t seen the chef’s skills firsthand.

Thorin nodded, stuffing half a sweet potato with an egg baked on it into his mouth between bites of meat, yolk dripping down his chin. Bilbo’s churning thoughts stuttered to a halt, watching in amusement as Thorin continued to gorge himself with food. The hobbit thought he had to be abnormal for finding it endearing that Thorin was so caught up in eating he didn’t even notice the mess he made. Had another dwarf done something similar Bilbo had no doubt he’d scold them about their manners. 

“Don’t worry, they were sufficiently cooked,” Thorin said after a long moment of Bilbo staring at him, unaware that the hobbit was more distracted by the dwarf popping his fingers inside his mouth one-by-one to suck the runny yolk off, than he was concerned about eating the eels. Bilbo felt a familiar heat rush through him, squirming in his seat to hide his reaction to Thorin’s confusing seduction. Bilbo would think the dwarf a tease if Thorin knew the extent that hobbits took pleasure in food. By Shire standards, the dwarf King was being fairly lewd.

“Ah,” Bilbo breathed, blushing hotly and looking away. He searched instead around the table to discern which dish had eel in it. Unfortunately, the majority of the dishes were assorted into unrecognizable mixtures and it was hard to determine what was what. There was something that looked like oddly colored sesame seeds sprinkled on top of a green mush with bits of white sausage and bacon strips mixed in, a bowl of noodles in a red cherry sauce and fried chicken burned almost to a crisp, roasted rabbit marinated with a purple paste and parsley, a smattering of colorful potatoes and carrots around a leg of orange glazed venison and fried, crusty meatballs. It was certainly a colorful meal if nothing else.

They ate for a while in quiet. After finishing his soup, Bilbo tested each dish carefully until he discovered that the bulk of the food was actually suitable for consumption. While not pretty to look at and seemingly with no reason to what he’d mixed with what, Thorin apparently had some aptitude towards cooking. Bilbo asked about his skills and Thorin explained that he often had gone out on patrols with the guards as a lad and therefore had been forced to learn how to cook or not get a share. The older dwarves hadn’t cared whether he was a Prince or not, and Thorin was expected to contribute just like everyone else. So he’d first learned to hunt, and then he’d learned to cook over a camp fire. 

Thorin bashfully clarified that he wasn’t very well versed with cooking in a fully furnished kitchen. He told Bilbo stories about how he planned and prepared for the day, and how Bombur and Flar had nearly pulled their beards out straining not to chase him out of their kitchen. Thorin had apparently dented numerous coppers pots and maybe had broken the door off the main oven while also tipping over a wine rack holding some of the best wines in Erebor. To make up for his inconvenience, Thorin had promised the chefs to remodel the rooms, import the latest culinary equipment, and restock the Dorwinion wine cellar. If only to get the chefs back into the kitchens later so his kingdom didn’t starve.

The dwarf got caught up in his anecdotes, stories spilling out about his cooking to the little family annoyances he’d been putting up with for the day. Bilbo hummed where it was appropriate, nodding along and only interrupting the other’s tale to praise Thorin at every new dish he tried. Bilbo found if he kept his eyes on Thorin while he ate, he hardly noticed what he put in his mouth. 

“--and he’s been asking to ride one of the Great Eagles because of that. It’s entirely Gandalf’s fault you see, telling him stories like that.” Thorin tore a piece of bread off the loaf and dipped it in his mug. Bilbo copied him, the fresh rosemary from the warm bread perfectly suitable with the flavorful hops used for the ale. Bilbo couldn’t help but think with just a tiny bit of training, Thorin would be one of the best cooks he’d ever met! Maybe at the next party the Shire hosted, he could talk Thorin into cooking something – like the wonderful fish head soup? Bilbo would be the envy of every hobbit in the Shire once they got a taste. 

Thorin continued on with his story, unaware of Bilbo’s scheming. “Ever since that age he’s been obsessed. He drives his brother mad decorating their room with eagle feathers and painting murals on the wall. It will probably be a relief to Fili to have his own room. He has reasonably simple taste compared to Kili and will probably be thankful to wake up for once without feathers tied into his mustache. Fili at least knows the Great Eagles are not some overgrown creature meant for transportation across the Misty Mountains. I’m afraid what my youngest nephew will do or say while they are here tomorrow for the coronation.”

Bilbo nearly choked on a strip of salted pork he’d slid between the slices of bread. “The Eagles of Manwë are going to be in Erebor? _Tomorrow?_ ”

“Of course. All the lords and rulers of Middle-Earth are invited, though a few cannot journey the distance or risk traveling through the Mountains with the weather worsening.” Thorin cocked his head to the side and studied Bilbo. “I thought you were aware of this?”

“No!” Bilbo squeaked, setting his silverware down. He suddenly didn’t feel like eating, which was inauspicious for a hobbit. “I knew the Master of Lake-town and King Bard were coming and of course Thranduil, but I don’t remember you mentioning the Great Eagles or any others.”

Bilbo could just imagine how the other hobbits would take the news. For some reason large birds of prey terrified the inhabitants of the Shire. Bilbo knew his own fear was from his mother telling him stories about large eagles spiriting off young children who stayed out too late. At first, a young Bilbo had been ecstatic about the idea, until his father had explain that the eagles were going to _have_ them for dinner, not have them _over_ for dinner. 

Thorin squinted at him. “Really? I could have sworn I did.” The dwarf tore into his plate of pheasant, the crunchy skin dripping with honey. For someone going to be crowned King of Erebor, he seemed more concerned with cleaning his plate than anything else.

Bilbo glanced up at the dwarf from under his eyelashes, nibbling on something that looked like a carrot but tasted like cherries, the red juice staining his lips. “Are you nervous at all about tomorrow?”

Not even pausing to consider the answer, the dwarf shrugged. “In truth, no.”

“Oh.”

“It’s ceremonial,” Thorin explained. “I’ve been considered King by my people for a while now, and I’ve ruled in my father’s place for many years. This is all just a show for the other kingdoms, though truly their acknowledgment means little to me.”

“Still,” Bilbo said softly, not wanting to offend Thorin with his questions. “The coronation will make things official, right? I mean, King Bard and Thranduil will have to recognize you as the ruler of Erebor. And if for any reason Erebor needs help to fight a war or something, they’ll have to heed your call. So that’s good.”

Thorin sniffed, lips twitching like he was fighting a frown. “I suppose. But there is little reason to worry of war and such. Erebor is unconquerable and wealthy. Someone would have to be a fool to even attempt to fight us.”

Bilbo winced, hiding behind a half eaten rack of lamb and green pickled eggs at the dwarf’s tone. Thorin seemed so callous to the worries of ruling. Bilbo didn’t know how the dwarf was able to be so nonchalant about the everyday uncertainties of running a kingdom. The hobbit would agonize over the duties Thorin’ held so effortlessly. It seemed like such a burden to Bilbo to be in his position, yet Thorin seemed unconcerned.   

“And there will be a party!” Bilbo chirped loudly, trying to get away from such serious talks. “Everybody loves parties! Us hobbits will find any reason to have a celebration, but a coronation is something _big_. Besides the current celebrations, I don’t remember the last time I heard there was a party in the Lonely Mountain, though I… suppose… I wouldn’t, considering…” the hobbit awkwardly trailed off.

Bilbo didn’t have to finish his sentence; even Thorin could see where he was going with it. For living so close together the inhabitants of the Shire and Erebor were very much closed off from each other. Even the few hobbits that worked in the Mountain didn’t know much about dwarves but the stereotypical nonsense sprouted about the different races all through Middle-Earth, and the dwarves really hadn’t the first clue to the habits of a hobbit. It had been an enlightening few weeks for them all since Thorin started courting Bilbo.  

“There was one two months ago for Dis’ birthday, but you are right, you would not have known of it. It was a quiet affair, mostly kin and a few council members invited. Since she is not heir to the throne, there is no need for display if she requests a smaller party.” 

“Oh, that’s nice,” Bilbo smiled. It was good to hear that. Bilbo worried what his birthday would be like after he married Thorin, if it would be a large event with the whole kingdom invited for celebrations or something worse. There would be no way Bilbo could make presents for everyone tempted to come if that happened. A small, quiet day among friends and family celebrating were just the type of situation Bilbo looked forward to. 

“I should figure out when everyone’s birthday is. So I can prepare,” Bilbo said. Thorin raised an eyebrow.

 “Presents,” Bilbo explained at the dwarf’s bemused expression. “It’s best if they’re handmade, like a quilt or wooden birdhouse. Though I could always give mathoms away if I didn’t feel like putting in the effort, but your family will soon be mine and it would be best if I got them practical items. Do you think Dis would mind a quilt? I know it’s already past her birthday but I would like her to know I appreciate her friendship and I have the clothe you bought me to make one.” 

Thorin shook his head. “No, I doubt she’d mind. What are mathoms?”

“It’s, um…” Bilbo bit his lips, trying to think of a way to explain it without confusing Thorin. “They’re gifts you don’t feel like throwing away, or keeping either. Something that gets passed around from house-hold to house-hold and sometimes ends up back in your cabinet if it’s particularly opulent looking. There was a pipe that someone gave Tobold Hornblower after he brought pipe-weed to the Shire, a pretty thing made from blue glass with a silver stem. Nice to look at, but no real realistic use since it was so breakable. The thing’s gone through Bag End about three times now.” 

Thorin looked baffled despite Bilbo’s simple explanation. “Why did you not just keep something so valuable the first time instead of letting it pass through so many times after?”   

“It’s not about keeping something of value, Thorin,” Bilbo sighed, then puckered his lips in consternation. “Well, not monetary value anyhow. It’s just, what am I to do with a pipe I cannot use? The best presents are those made with love and the recipient at mind. Like those garden tools you made me, those are perfect, I can use them every day if need be.”

Thorin expression seemed to fall, and he turned away from Bilbo. “So you do not keep things you do not use regularly?”

Bilbo startled, confused at Thorin’s turn of disposition. He seemed really upset by what Bilbo said. “Um, I’m not sure what you are asking?”

Thorin hummed, looking down at his calloused hands bunched in his lap as he thought something over. His expression was one of heavy deliberation, brows furrowed and mouth turned down in a grimace. The hobbit was concerned he’d somehow upset Thorin without even knowing. Presents were usually a happy discussion and hobbits regularly could go on and on about what they’ve given and received throughout the years with animated debate. Bilbo could only assume dwarfs were a bit more peculiar about their ideas on what an impressive gift was, and the hobbit worried Thorin was second guessing himself on Bilbo’s third courting gift.  

“Thorin?” Bilbo asked, pushing his plate aside.

The dwarf sighed once more, standing slowly and pacing in front of the table. Bilbo blinked in shock, watching as Thorin crossed to a wooden chest by the fireplace and pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle. He hesitated before the fireplace, but after gathering his courage, Thorin quickly stalked back across the room and dropped the light-weight present in Bilbo’s lap.

“What’s this?” Bilbo asked, turning it around and admiring the wrapping.

Gulping loudly enough for Bilbo to hear him, Thorin nodded towards the gift. “Your third courting gift. Open it,” the dwarf said roughly. “Please.”

It felt like his stomach had dropped to his feet and Bilbo could feel his hands start to tremble. The wrapping seemed to be made from a thick velvet cloth, tied in a crisscross motion with a wide braided rope of blue and silver. A bit of dust was layered on the top. With great delicacy, the hobbit started to unwrap it.

“Oh,” Bilbo said softly, pulling back the cloth and uncovering a glittering shirt of silver rings, and with it a belt of pearls and crystals. Tucked under the shirt and belt was a light helm of figured leather, strengthened beneath with hoops of steel, and studded about the brim with white gems. It was quite simply the most beautiful present the hobbit had ever received.     

“It is dwarf-mail,” Thorin’s ragged voice broke through Bilbo’s reverie. “Mithril, the corslet made for some long forgotten elf prince. I repaired what was needed and added some decorations. The helm and belt were of my own design, something to protect you along with the shirt-armor.” 

Bilbo could feel tears gathering in his eyes and he sniffed loudly against his knuckles. “Oh, Thorin…”

Thorin sighed softly, looking despondent. “I know now it is an inappropriate gift, so I shall find you something else and –”

“ _No!_ ” Bilbo cried out, interrupting before Thorin could say anything more. It sounded like Thorin was thinking about reclaiming the beautiful gift so soon after giving it away. The very idea what prosperous! Bilbo would not stand for it. “You can’t mean to take it from me!” 

Already the hobbit could feel something fierce rise up inside him, like a fuming dragon ready to protect his hoard of precious gold. If Thorin even attempted to take back his courting gift, Bilbo didn’t know what he would do. Maybe slap him? He simultaneously wanted to rage fury and cry sobbing tears of anguish at the very thought.    

“Bilbo,” Thorin quickly kneeled, leaning against the arm of Bilbo’s chair and taking the hobbit’s face in his hands. “I wouldn’t. I’m sorry.”

As tears trickled down his cheeks, Bilbo pressed his forehead against Thorin’s. “Thank you, thank you,” he whispered, nuzzling against the dwarf’s larger nose.

Thorin carded his fingers through the hobbit’s hair, breathing softly against Bilbo’s cheek. He smelled like myrrh and meat, breath sour from the meal and hair scented woodsy and warm from his bath not too long ago. 

“This is perfect. Why would you think it wasn’t good enough?” Bilbo asked, holding the mithril shirt tight against his chest. The metal was as light as a feather and as soft as silk. It wasn’t like any type of armor Bilbo had ever seen or felt before. Unlike the usual bulky chain mail the hobbit had seen other dwarves wear, Thorin’s gift appeared to be wearable should Bilbo need it. Eru willing, he hoped it never came to that, but it was smart to always be prepared.

The belt and helm were beautiful as well; more so that Thorin had made them himself and with such delicate detail that they coordinated well with the chainmail. The belt a simple design of swirling gold vines inlaid into the silver and crystal strap, matching perfectly with the collar of the mithril corslet. The helm was an odd reddish leather, circular in diameter and completely smooth except for the white gems studded around the crown and the metal underside to protect the wearer. Each item hardly weighed more than a russet potato, and together their combined weights barely burdened Bilbo at all.   

“Though an extravagant gift, I shall never let you anywhere near danger that you shall have use for it.” Thorin brushed a light kiss against Bilbo’s neck, startling the hobbit from his careful examination of the mithril shirt. 

Bilbo laughed wetly, using the sleeves from Master Draupnir’s beautiful clothing to wipe his drying tears away. “Silly dwarf.”

Thorin chuckled, hands running down Bilbo’s neck and shoulder, grasping at his biceps and pulling the hobbit closer. “Only you could make me so.”   

Running his hands over the smooth dome of the helm, Bilbo barely suppressed his shivers as Thorin’s beard scratched against his collar, the dwarf mouthing wetly at his neck and ear, distracting the hobbit from his gifts.

“Wha-what’s this made f-from,” Bilbo whimpered, shoulders twitching as Thorin nibbled at the point of his ear.

“What?” Thorin asked, pulling back with a wet gasp, eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. “Mmm, dragon’s skin. Leather from an old fire drake killed long ago in the northern mountains.”

Bilbo nearly dropped the helm. “Dragon!”

Thorin laughed, rocking back on his heels so he could move Bilbo’s chair around to face him and settling between the hobbit’s legs. His large hands cupped Bilbo’s, lifting the helm up and setting the armor on to the hobbit’s dark golden head. The rings neither pulling at Bilbo’s curls nor pinching his skin, setting comfortably against his brow like the softest goose-feathered pillow. If Thorin’s didn’t look so pleased, Bilbo would have felt ridiculous sitting at the dinner table with a helmet on, but the dwarf’s smile was so unbearable charming Bilbo felt himself flush.

“There,” Thorin chuckled. “See? I think I did well, considering I didn’t have your measurements.”

“You did do well,” Bilbo agreed, biting his lips and pressing his thighs against Thorin’s side. The warmth from the dwarf radiated upwards towards his torso, pooling somewhere in the hobbit’s chest until he felt like the ocean had taken up residence there. Wave after wave of affection swelled up in him, growing until Bilbo felt like he was drowning under the deep blue of Thorin’s eyes. He felt his tears began anew and Thorin’s expression turned worried.

“Bilbo?” 

The hobbit hiccupped, “Sorry, I just–”

“Bilbo,” Thorin murmured, “Please, do not cry. I did not mean to upset you.”  The dwarf pressed kisses to the corner of Bilbo’s eyes, collecting each tear as they fell down the hobbit’s cheeks.

“I-I’m not upset,” Bilbo muttered, sniffling loudly and trying in vain not to drip all over Thorin. “Well, I am, but I’m not. I’m just so – _so_ _happy_ ; it overwhelmed me. I love you so much.” 

“Oh,” Thorin said, blinking slowly.

Bilbo gave him a rueful grin. The dwarf seemed confused about Bilbo’s tears, puzzled by the fact that the hobbit could smile while crying.

“I’m alright, really,” Bilbo tried to reassure him.

“If you say so.” Thorin took the helm off Bilbo’s head and set it on the table. They stared at each other for a moment, the dwarf’s brows furrowed as he watched Bilbo dry his eyes with his napkin. Bilbo must not have been doing it right though, because Thorin took the linen from him and dabbed the tip on his tongue before he started rubbing gently at the hobbit’s cheeks. The hobbit submitted to the fussing, letting his suitor take care of him like his mother used to when he was a child. It gave Bilbo the time he needed to compose himself.

“I mean it,” Bilbo said after Thorin had put the napkin aside and wrapped his arms around the hobbit’s waist. “I accept the gift. It’s perfect.”

Thorin’s hands tightened around Bilbo’s middle, his expression serious. “Alright.”  

“S-so what does that mean now, since I accepted the third courting gift?”

“You accepted my claim, now we can officially announce it tomorrow. After, we wait until we both are ready to proceed with the wedding, should it be a few months from now or a couple of years.”

Bilbo laughed, “I doubt it will be _years_.”

Thorin smiled, “Be as it may, we will wait until you’re ready.”

Something about the way Thorin talked made it seem like _he’d_ be ready to marry Bilbo tomorrow if allowed, which was sweet but not very practical. Bilbo was not quite prepared to take up his pending position as King’s consort, though he found himself surprisingly ready to be Thorin’s husband. Had Thorin just been a regular dwarf guard like Bilbo had originally thought when they first met, he would have no problem running off together to the Officiate and having them wed as soon as possible. It would make for good gossip around the Shire if nothing else; the hobbits did so enjoy a good love story. Unfortunately, as King, there were bound to be certain time consuming procedures Thorin had to go through to wed.   

Biting his lip, the hobbit looked at Thorin through his lashes. “Maybe… next spring?”

The dwarf’s eyebrows jumped towards his hairline. “Spring? That is fine. Is there a cultural reason for such an early wedding or a personal preference? Not that I mind, but I am curious. You hobbits do so enjoy your flowers from what I can see.”

“Both,” Bilbo admitted shyly. He wondered if they should have two weddings, one for Erebor and a more private affair in the Shire under the party tree. “My mother and father were married in early spring, just after the snow had melted and the blooms were growing. I always thought if I ever married that I would want to do something similar, at least until I resigned myself to bachelorhood. Of course, then you come around and mess up my plans.”

Thorin huffed out a laugh. “My treasure, I am starting to think you like to declare all personal grievances as my fault.”

Bilbo ran the heel of his foot down the back of Thorin’s knee, causing the dwarf to shudder in pleasure. “Maybe,” he teased, cocking his head to the side and smirking. “Though there seems to be a parallel to my encounters with you and my grievances, so you can’t fault me for linking them like I do.”

There was a spark in Thorin’s eye and his chin twitched like he was holding back another laugh. “I can too, I am King! I should be able to simply order you not to. Sadly my commands do not work quite as well on a hobbit like you. I have no doubt should you trip and tear your trousers walking through the Shire tomorrow, you’d think I am to blame.”

“Of course,” Bilbo answered, reaching up and tugging at the collar of Thorin’s jacket. “You were probably being distracting again and caused me to fall.”  

“Distracting, how?” Thorin’s grin looked rather feral. Had Bilbo not seen him stuff himself with dinner like he had, the hobbit would worry that Thorin was still hungry. 

Bilbo licked his lips, leaning his head back from Thorin but moving his hips closer and locking his ankles together behind the dwarf’s back. Thorin made a broken sound, somewhere deep in his chest as Bilbo settled. Their eyes met and Thorin’s burned with wanton passion, leaving a growing spark somewhere low in the hobbit’s belly.

“Y-you always are distracting,” Bilbo stuttered. “Sometime you are just walking and I get sidetracked watching you.” It was embarrassing to admit, but Bilbo thought it somewhat common for others to become befuddled by just watching Thorin be Thorin. He had a majestic air about him and a kingly stride to his gait that practically shouted out for everyone to pay attention to him. Some part of the dwarf was so innate in his standing in life, naturally and instinctively a leader to his people they seemed to always be looking towards him for guidance. Had Bilbo been just a lowly pastry assistant for the rest of his life, he had no doubt he’d be among the rest of the citizens of Erebor admiring their King from afar.  Fate had been very generous to Bilbo the day he found the dwarf trespassing in his yard. 

“Walking?” Thorin barked, looking surprised. “You mean all the thought I put into being shirtless while training on the off chance you were around was worthless, when I could have just taken a stroll in front of Bag End, fully clothed and weaponless!”

“Probably, though I did so enjoy looking at you without a shirt.” Bilbo tugged the top button of Thorin’s waistcoat loose as if to endorse his statement.   

Thorin caught Bilbo’s hand up and nipped at the hobbit’s knuckles. “Good. I am happy to know my efforts were not wasted. However I should tell you that I am similarly distracted just by your presence, but should you feel the need to be remiss by walking around without a shirt, I wouldn’t–” Thorin broke off with a squawk, wriggling in Bilbo’s grip as the hobbit tried to pinch him.

“Stop, Stop! Mahal, that hurts! Why did no one warn me that hobbits were vicious little creatures?” Thorin howled, finally grabbing a hold of Bilbo’s wrists and holding their hands aloft as he caught his breath. Bilbo grumbled, but his glare was only halfhearted as he watched Thorin’s chest heave for breath, distracted by the rise and fall of the dwarf’s pectorals. 

Thorin gave a snort and slowly lowered their intertwined hands to Bilbo’s lap and the mithril shirt. “I put a lot of sweat and blood into making this meal and we have not even gotten to dessert. You keep accusing me of disruption when you are just as bad.”

“Dessert?” Bilbo perked up. His stomach was full, but there was always room in a hobbit for dessert. Unless, Thorin was talking of a different kind of dessert. With his dwarf it could go either way, but Bilbo wouldn’t have minded either. He was quite excited at both prospects. 

Getting to his feet, Thorin reached over Bilbo’s plate and pulled the only still covered dish towards them. With little pomp, the King whisked the serving cover off and plopped the silver tray right in front of Bilbo.

“Bread pudding,” Thorin said, expression suddenly nervous as Bilbo leaned forward to investigate. 

Now somewhat reassured by Thorin’s cooking ability, the soggy looking dessert didn’t look as unappetizing as it should. There were blackberries and raspberries sprinkled all over the top, along with small slivers of melted white chocolate mixed in with the sliced chunks of bread. The vanilla sauce looked sticky and sweet, saturated the bread until it puffed up like a wet sponge.   

“My favorite,” Bilbo gasped, clapping his hands together. “You remembered!”

Thorin scratched at the back of his neck, looking bashful. “Of course I did. Though I had to ask your neighbor Mister and Mistress Gamgee for the recipe, since it is not something any of the cooks in Erebor knew how to make. He was quite insistent about the blackberries, even though they are out of season.”

“Hamfast gave you his recipe?” Bilbo asked, astonished when the dwarf nodded. Thorin might not know it but most hobbits guarded their family recipes like dwarves safeguarded their gold. It was a great show of trust and friendship between the Gamgees and Thorin for them to do such a thing, especially for Bilbo’s sake. He would have to find some way to thank his neighbors after things settled down.

As Bilbo lifted a spoonful of bread pudding to his mouth, Thorin stopped him. Taking the utensil from the hobbit’s hand, Thorin leaned forward and held the dessert up to Bilbo’s lips. “Let me.”

Bilbo was about to reply, ready to scold the dwarf for treating him like a child, except Thorin took the moment to effectively silence Bilbo, popping the dessert past his lips and into his mouth. The sugary sweet taste of bread and chocolate, along with the bitter freshness of the berries, overwhelmed his taste buds until Bilbo could do litter more than moan aloud. 

“Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo gasped, licking his lips as Thorin scooped up more into the spoon. “It tastes delicious.”

Thorin barely seemed to hear him, eager to get Bilbo another bite of dessert.

“Honestly, I can feed myself-ulk--” Bilbo was cut off by another mouthful being pushed into his mouth. He couldn’t even grumble about Thorin’s treatment because the food was so good. Instead he moaned after every bite, trying fruitlessly to get Thorin to hand over the spoon and stop looming over him like some demented gargoyle. It carried on like that for a while, Bilbo unsuccessfully trying to talk as the King of Erebor literally fed him dessert he’d made himself with a silver spoon. Bilbo didn’t think there was anyone in Middle-Earth who would believe him if he told them of the events that transpired that night. 

Once the dessert was polished off and Thorin nearly in Bilbo’s lap, Bilbo flopped back into his seat with a satisfied whimper. Rubbing his stomach in contentment, Bilbo blinked sleepily up at the dwarf. Now with a full stomach he could do with a nice smoke and a bit of a nap. He wondered if he could talk Thorin into sitting out on a balcony with him and sharing some pipe-weed.

“That was delectable. I never would have thought of you as such a good cook. You’ll have to help me from now on when you come over to Bag End for supper.”

Thorin grunted, fixing his coat and covering his lap.     

Bilbo was nice enough to ignore Thorin’s aroused state, and instead sighed blissfully. He could still taste the berries and chocolate on his tongue, the syrupy taste of vanilla nearly overpowering his senses. The scent and savoring taste brought to mind memories of sitting at a full dinner table in Bag End, everyone smiling as his mother told her stories and his father read the paper, Bilbo playing with his toy soldiers at the table while he scooped a spoonful of dessert onto his plate. As happy as the memory was, Bilbo was starting to enjoy the new ones he was making with Thorin.

“This has been such a wonderful evening, I’m almost sad for it to end.”   

“Y-you can stay,” Thorin muttered, pushing the empty dishes back so he could lean against the table. He set one hand against the edge, and then almost slipped when he tried to put any weight on it. Thorin blushed hotly and ran the shaky hand through his hair. “Um, I mean, the evening’s not exactly over and I wouldn’t mind you s-staying, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Curious but not exactly impatient to find out who the mysterious person Thorin wanted to introduce him to was, Bilbo smiled up at the dwarf and nodded. “That’s fine.” 

Thorin sighed in relief, hands reaching to cup the back of Bilbo’s neck and pull him forward into another leisurely kiss. He could probably taste the linger flavor of dessert, and Thorin’s started to focus most of his attention on deepening the kiss until Bilbo was wiggling in his chair trying to get closer. 

Like every other kiss before it and hopefully every kiss after, Bilbo felt that heated thrill tingle down his spine and curl into his toes. It was like the first day of spring or discovering a book on his favorite subject. It was finding out that everything he’d known before paled in comparison to the new encounter. Just being in Thorin’s presence was like having the air sucked out of the room and breathing life into his numb body at the same time. It never made sense, but in a way, it made perfect sense. The hobbit came _alive_ when he was in Thorin’s company.    

Thorin’s hands tugged at Bilbo’s clothing and something metal and pointed poked the hobbit in the side.

For all his happiness, the tin box was a heavy reminder in his pocket. Bilbo didn’t know what Thorin’s reaction would be to receiving the items. It might cause some delighted recollections of a long forgotten memory or ruin the perfectly lovely atmosphere they had going with misery and despair. Bilbo’s hand slipped into his coat, fingers brushing against the sharp edges of the box. He grasped at it for a moment, undecided, before his fist clenched around one of the items and quickly pulled it out and thrust it towards Thorin’s chest. 

Thorin jerked back from the kiss, hands sliding down Bilbo’s arms and catching the paper. “What’s this?”

Bilbo bit his lip and looked down at the mithril armor in his lap. “A letter.”

“From who?”

“Me,” Bilbo said, quickly glancing up and meeting Thorin’s eyes only for a second before looking away. “I wrote you some poetry.”

Thorin smiled, the letter crinkling in his hands as he slowly slipped it open. “You wrote me poetry?”

“Yes,” Bilbo muttered mulishly, not appreciating Thorin’s teasing tone. He glared at the dwarf, stuffing his hands under his lap so he wouldn’t snatch the letter out of Thorin’s grip. 

With one last smirk, Thorin glanced down and started reading.

 

****  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so late! Things have been really hectic the last few weeks, I started a full time job and I’m having problems getting used to the early schedule among other things. Then there’s all the OJT I’m getting so I was feeling way too overwhelmed to sit down and write when really I just wanted to lay down and pass out as soon as I get home. Everyone giving me encouragement on tumblr has been wonderful, y’all have been a big help with my confidence and I probably wouldn’t have gotten through these last two weeks without y’all. Thanks everyone for the comments and kudos, they’ve been a big reminder not to let this story sit on the wayside too long and peter out into WIP territory. Hopefully I can get back into regular weekly updates now that things have settled somewhat.  
> Eel blood is toxic. It’s like a puffer fish in some ways, so it must be cooked before consumption. Or at least thats what the internet says.
> 
> Also, anybody have some poetry to recommend me? I’m going to give writing Bilbo’s poem myself a try, though I won’t promise it will be anything good.


	33. Letters to a Dwarf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin reads two very important letters addressed to him.

****

 

**_Who ever desired each other as we do? Let us look_ **

**_for the ancient ashes of hearts that burned,_ **

**_and let our kisses touch there, one by one,_ **

**_till the flower, disembodied, rises again._ **

**_Let us love that Desire that consumed its own fruit_ **

**_and went down, aspect and power, into the earth:_ **

**_We are its continuing light,_ **

**_its indestructible, fragile seed._ **

**_That Desire, interred in time’s deep winter,_ **

**_by snows and spring-times, absence and autumns,_ **

**_bring to it the apple’s new light,_ **

**_that freshness disclosed by a strange wound,_ **

**_like that ancient Desire that journeys in silence_ **

**_through submerged mouths’ eternities._ **

****

***

 

Bilbo stared at Thorin’s face, ready to see the dwarf’s reaction while he read the poem. Thorin’s expression was stoic, completely blank as he studied Bilbo’s hard wrought words, pausing only for a moment to reach over and sip at his cup of mead; then casually returning back to his reading like he was perusing a school book instead of a dedicated love poem.

Nervously, Bilbo couldn’t stop nibbling at his thumbnail or jiggling his leg, knees knocking loudly against the underside of the table as he watched. He felt nauseous and anxious, barely holding himself from jumping to his feet and pacing the room to stave off the strain of waiting. He didn’t understand – what was taking Thorin so long? It was a _poem_ , not a riddle!

Opening his mouth to say something, maybe even yell at the dwarf in frustration, he quickly let it snap shut when Thorin lowered the letter at the same moment.

“It’s good.”

Bilbo blinked, taken aback. “It’s good?”

Thorin nodded. “Yes.”

“Good? _Good_!” Bilbo heard his voice rise in pitch and crack, fully aware his face was flushing from an irrational mix of humiliation and anger. He didn’t know what he was expecting from the dwarf, praise and tearful acclimations? Something other than a casual ‘it’s good’ at least! Bilbo had poured out his feelings in the poem, rewritten and edited every last word until he was finally happy with it, wringing himself dry until his bones felt hollow and his chest heavy, trying to encompass into words every last feeling he’d had for Thorin and then some. He’d be the first to admit the poem would never measure up to the actual affection he had for the dwarf, that was dependent more on his actions than his words, but he wanted a reaction better than careless apathy.

Thorin sipped at his cup, unaware of Bilbo’s impending meltdown.

Bilbo fretted, wondering wildly if it was just a sort of misinterpretation. Thorin’s own poetry was somewhat confusing to the hobbit. Analogies of metalworking and mountain tunneling, that while flowing and lovely in verse, didn’t quite make much sense to Bilbo when the dwarf compared him to hidden veins of gold and such. Bilbo should have just done a simple love poem, full of senseless prose and easy rhymes, like the kind he used to make as a tween for Lily Brown. Before her feud with Lobelia and when he’d been convinced he was going to marry her when he grew up. Thinking back to some of the verses he’d written back then caused Bilbo to cringe in thought, but Lily had been pleased and she’d giggled like an excited piglet when she’d shown the others.

The hobbit made a noise like a steam pot, trying to decompress his resentment towards Thorin and think rationally. He clenched his fists tightly around his courting gifts, ignoring the dwarf’s call as Thorin tried to get his attention.

Finally, Thorin seemed to catch on that he’d made a mistake somewhere, brows furrowed in confusion as he glanced between the hobbit and the poem, like he was trying to backtrack where things might have gone wrong. He ran a hand through his hair, forgetting for a moment that it was still tied back and pulling strands loose, and earnestly appeared to ponder at Bilbo’s mood change.

“I don’t– Bilbo?” Thorin inquired, watching helplessly as Bilbo jerked to his feet and stormed to the velvet chaise in front of the fireplace. Bilbo made a wounded sound, as if he’d stubbed his toe, before flopping down dramatically and disappearing from Thorin’s view. Bilbo was afraid that if he looked at the dwarf right now, he’d start crying.

“Bilbo,” the dwarf sighed, getting up to follow his intended. “Why are you upset? Do you think I do not like the poem? You wrote beautifully and from the heart. How can I not appreciate what you created for me?”

“Admit it,” Bilbo muttered, covering his face with the helm Thorin had given him, knowing he was acting like a child but not caring. “You hate it.”

Thorin chuckled, amused at the hobbit’s pouting. “No I don’t. Bilbo, your poem is wonderful. I’ve never read anything like it before and not even the best bard in Middle-Earth can measure up. It evoked such emotion in me I’m nearly speechless.”

“Obviously not,” Bilbo grumbled, his voice echoing in the helmet. His eyes stung and Bilbo sucked in a large breath to hold back the tears. It would be silly to cry over his unappreciated poem on such a night. Already the romantic atmosphere had suffered at Bilbo’s hands and it wouldn’t do to make things worse. Thorin had put a lot of effort into making the night enjoyable for them both, to get upset now would make it seem like Bilbo hadn’t appreciated those efforts. Trying to regulate his breathing, Bilbo felt Thorin cautiously sit down next to him and place a warm hand on his hip.

“My treasure, why are you upset?”

“It’s nothing,” Bilbo whispered.

Thorin sighed, rubbing his hand down Bilbo’s flank. It was more of a comforting gesture than one of desire, and Bilbo appreciated that. He didn’t feel much like kisses or passionate embraces at the moment, too depressed about his poetry.

“It’s obviously _not_ nothing,” Thorin said, voice tender and caring. “Tell me, my treasure, is this about your poem? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of course I am!” Moving the helm enough to glare at the dwarf, Bilbo grumbled, “It’s horrible, I know it. I just feel so silly now, believing I was so good at poetry and giving you such shoddy work. The other hobbits told me my other poems were some of the best they’ve ever seen in the Shire in ages, and my uncle even offered to publish a few of my limericks a couple of years back, but all this time they were probably laughing at me behind my back. I wish someone had been honest with me before and told me the truth. I’m a horrible poet.”

Thorin’s jaw dropped and his hand stilled where it was rubbing Bilbo’s thigh. “What? No!” He growled, more to himself than at the hobbit. “Bilbo, you are a magnificent poet. I loved your poem.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Bilbo pleaded, looking up under his bangs at the dwarf. “I will understand if you don’t like it.”

“I do!” Thorin said, almost hysterically. “I do like it! I said it was good.”

“ _Good_ ,” Bilbo seethed the word out like one might describe an orc. “Yes, I heard you the first time. But _good_ is not good enough for you. You deserve the best Thorin, so I’ll work harder.”

Thorin blinked, expression startled and face glowing gold in the firelight. “B-but Bilbo, you don’t have to. I like the one you already made me, not that I’ll stop you if you want to make more, but I don’t–”

“I’m a talentless hack,” Bilbo said, staring at the stitching of Thorin’s collar instead of meeting the dwarf’s eyes, the gems sewn into the cloth sparkling like starlight. “My poetry isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”

 Thorin groaned, running a hand down his face in frustration. “Why won’t you believe me when I say it’s good? I admit I have no talent at all for poetry and sometimes I am – well, not unmoved by it, because your poetry did _move_ me – but I have no right to judge others. Most dwarves have a particular interest in the arts that we pursue from a young age, and mine is towards song rather than poems, though they sometimes share similar features to each other.”  

“Poppycock!” Bilbo shouted, setting the helm aside with the silver shirt and belt so he wouldn’t jumble it. Thorin’s poems were charming, descriptive and pleasant even to a hobbit. There was passion and fire, strength and gentleness to each line of tender affection the dwarf had written for Bilbo. And quite frankly, Thorin’s penmanship was some of the best Bilbo had ever seen and he was tempted to frame and hang the poems on his wall for that feature alone. “Your poems are lovely, in a dwarvish way.”

Thorin smiled humorlessly, blue-grey eyes warm where they stared into Bilbo’s. “I have a confession to make: Balin has been helping me write them and really most of the words are his, though they were not without my contributions. I tried a few times to compose something on my own, but my thoughts got jumbled and my wrists ached from writing so delicately.”

Bilbo gasped, “What?”

“My pitiful attempts were so pathetic that Dis has kept some of the worst ones she found in the trash as blackmail.” Thorin shrugged, looking away so he wouldn’t meet Bilbo’s accusing stare. “I’ve learned since then to burn them if they dissatisfy me, and nothing I made on my own would do you justice. Just please, do not be so hard on yourself. Your skill at poetry is far beyond my own, and I hate to see you so upset about it.”

Sitting up slowly, Bilbo slipped his hands up Thorin’s arm, the muscles tense where Thorin was leaning on them towards the hobbit. “Thorin, I never knew. If you disliked writing poetry so much, why did you continue making me poems? It is not something you _had_ to do to court me, a song would have been just as lovely.”

The dwarf half-shrugged, looking unrepentant. “I do not mind overmuch. I would do anything to please you, even if it is not something I am naturally competent at, like compose poetry, or dressing as a halfling, cooking, and even planting a garden.”

Bilbo was about to scold Thorin about saying he wasn’t skilled at cooking when all of the dwarf’s words caught up with him and he sputtered, “ _Plant a garden_? Thorin, did you…”

Thorin smiled ruefully, looking only a little guilty at spilling his secret. “I tried, until I was informed that the weather is not right for the seeds. Bifur is helping me keep watch over the few sprouts that have come up. He often tries to talk to me about something called mulch? Either way, I am learning the difficulty of keeping it maintained. Dwarves do not have a natural propensity towards the growing of things, we’d much rather mine a mountain than till the earth.”

The feeling of embarrassment over his poem was slowly slipping away as Bilbo listened to Thorin talk. Not that a bit of irrational bitterness lingered heavy in his chest, the idea of being upset at the dwarf now seemed preposterous. Thorin had tried his best and in the end appreciated the hobbit’s efforts. Though his words that he actually liked the poem hadn’t really sunk in, Bilbo shouldn’t ever fault Thorin for trying. So Bilbo let himself be drawn into the story as Thorin grumbled about pea shoots and peat moss, letting the anger drain out of him as he leaned into Thorin’s bulk and nodded along appropriately.

 “What did you plant?” Bilbo asked curiously.

Thorin shrugged, “Greens, some onions, _peas_ , and cabbage. I was told there are a basic staple for any home garden.”

“Well yes,” Bilbo admitted, fascinated by the idea of Thorin’s growing a garden. He could still remember the dwarf kneeling in his garden at Bag End so long ago with the hobbit’s straw hat on, trying to pull up carrots and getting dirt all over himself.  By hobbit standards it was a very romantic gesture to build someone a new garden, about as grand a gesture as when Bungo built Belladonna a hobbit hole. Though now Bilbo wondered if it got enough light up here in the Mountain for the growing plants and if the soil was correct and how they’d worked out the irrigation? There was probably less chance of creatures like rabbits or birds getting into the vegetable patch and chewing up the budding growths, although Bilbo was unsure if the tiny sprouts were getting the correct nutrients they needed to mature without the proper care. “Um, can I see it?”

“What?” Thorin cocked his head to the side, watching Bilbo fidget.

“Your garden, I would like to see it, please.”

Blinking in surprise, Thorin’s brows furrowed as he grabbed Bilbo’s hands and placed a kiss on each palm. “Of course! But we are off the original subject.” The dwarf wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder. “Your poem, it is the best I’ve ever read, do not doubt that. I’m sorry you thought I did not appreciate it, but I do. I could ask for nothing better than to know your care for me, to have something tangible when you are away that I can look upon and remind myself. Bilbo, my treasure, please do not be disappointed in yourself. I just… sometimes my emotions…” Thorin groaned in frustration.

“Thorin?” Bilbo peered closer, shifting a strand of the dwarf’s hair back so he could see his face. He felt better by then, somewhat recovered on the subject of his poem. And while he didn’t like revisiting it so soon after he’d decided to let it go, Thorin seemed to fight to get his words out so Bilbo let him continue uninterrupted.

Thorin struggled for words, teeth grinding together as he seemed to choke on his sentences. “It’s not… easy. I know sometimes with you it is, but here, in the Mountain I just–”

Bilbo bit his lips, wondering nervously exactly what his suitor was trying to get at.

“It’s different. I’m different,” Thorin said finally, swallowing thickly and looking away as if ashamed of himself.

“Different?” Bilbo asked curiously. He hadn’t observed any overt differences in Thorin behavior all night, so he was confused by the dwarf King’s confession.

“I am King here,” Thorin tried to explain. “Certain behavior is expected of me and sometimes, even when I am alone and no longer around an audience, it is hard to shake off that… manner of demeanor.”

“Oh,” Bilbo breathed. “I see.”

Thorin continued on, looking earnest as he tried to reassure Bilbo. “You understand? Earlier, you were upset and said that your poem did not move me, but it did. It’s just I…s ort of reverted back, because it stirred my emotions too deeply and I was unsure how to–”  

Bilbo opened his mouth, about to ask a question before he thought better of it. He didn’t want Thorin to be self conscious around him, especially considering their circumstances. Bilbo had always appreciated the dwarf’s honest demeanor while around him. There had only been a few instances where they’d been together around others outside their circle of family and friends and then Bilbo had noticed Thorin acting only slightly different. The dwarf King held himself and even talked differently, but the hobbit had always put that aside as Thorin being a King, like Thorin the King was just another shadow of the dwarf Bilbo had fallen in love with, an act for his people. Bilbo could somewhat relate. Sometimes the hobbit himself acted differently around strangers wanting to put on a good impression than he would with someone he was closer to, like Lobelia or Otho. He just hoped Thorin never felt the need to act like anyone but himself around Bilbo, no matter the situation.  

“Oh Thorin,” Bilbo sighed. He felt foolish now, considering his reaction earlier. “I’m sorry.”

Grunting, Thorin gently nudged his foot against Bilbo’s bare ankle. “Don’t be. It was just a misunderstanding. Now you know your poem was good and I sometimes act a fool. Let us put it aside and think of happier things.”

“Of course, of course,” Bilbo agreed readily. Anything to get the look of disappointment off Thorin’s face, though he really wanted to question why Thorin would call himself a fool. He never wanted Thorin to be disheartened with himself, especially as a lover and King. Bilbo felt inconsiderate now, for overreacting like he’d done over a silly poem.

The two sat and talked for a while in front of the fire about Thorin’s attempts at gardening. The dwarf had cleared out an old unused balcony in the east quarter and had planned the garden to be a surprise wedding gift of sorts to Bilbo. Thorin had actually gotten the idea from King Bard, whose uncle’s young bride was once a farmer’s daughter and was often times overwhelmed by her new station in the city that she wandered back to her father’s farm in worrying despair. The King of Dale, in a fit of inspiration, had decided to convert the old garrison into a barn for herd animals and had his soldier’s caring for them. This had the benefit of making his new aunt happy, keeping his men out of trouble, and now the dairy cows and goats were currently producing some of the best milk and cheese this side of the Misty Mountains. 

Bilbo laughed hoarsely, his feet thrown over Thorin’s lap as the dwarf told his story. Thorin’s rough, gravelly voice was soothing to the hobbit, and he felt his eyes grow heavy as they sat comfortably together in front of the warm fireplace.

“Bilbo?” Thorin’s voice echoed in his ear and Bilbo felt himself start. He must have nodded off for a moment and missed hearing the end of Thorin’s adventure trying to barter Bard out of one of infamous goats as a wedding gift for Bilbo in exchange for an emerald necklace.

“Sorry, what?” the hobbit yawned.

Thorin smiled indulgently down at him, curling his hand around the hobbits neck and pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead. “Nothing.”

“No, no,” Bilbo muttered, scratching at his nose. “It’s not nothing. I’m sorry, I must have dozed off. All that good food you made for me and you’re so comfortable to lie on and you know, you must be aware that you have such a lovely voice, my love. I could fall asleep every night listening to you talk.”

Bilbo wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t of glanced up at just that moment, but Thorin turned as beet red as one of the hobbit’s prized tomatoes before quickly looking away. It looked as if the dwarf still wasn’t quite used to taking compliments.

“Are you saying I bore you to sleep?”

“No,” Bilbo scoffed, earning a laugh from the dwarf. “You just have a very comforting voice to me.” Shifting so he wasn’t leaning all his weight on Thorin, the tin box in Bilbo’s pocket fell out and onto the floor, and in the firelight, flashed brightly enough to draw both their attention away from each other.

“What’s that?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo swallowed thickly, leaning down and scooping the box up before setting it in his lap. It felt like time had slowed and the only sound in the room was the steady beat of someone’s heart pumping loudly in their chest. Bilbo thought it might have been his.

“Um…”

Thorin raised an eyebrow, smiling softly at the hobbit as Bilbo’s hands started trembling. “Is it that South Farthing pipe-weed you are so possessive of? I remember it like it was yesterday, how you scolded me for ‘stealing’ some from your barrel. I confess I am fond of the pipe-weed considering its association with our first meeting. Would you like to share a pipe with me for memories sake on the eve of our engagement? ”

The dwarf sounded eager at the idea of sharing a pipe, but instead of answering, Bilbo popped the lid of the tin box and glanced cautiously up at the dwarf.

Thorin frowned, pulling his arms back from around Bilbo and leaning forward to look inside the dark box. “What is...”

The dwarf’s breath caught. Slowly, as if moving through molasses, Thorin drew out the oddly shaped key from the tin and twirled it between his fingers. The thing practically sparkled in the dwarf’s hand, like it knew it was back where it belonged and was happy to be with its rightful owner. The runes etched along the edges danced in the firelight and the metal glowed like newly polished silver, though Bilbo could’ve sworn it had looked old and rusty back in Bag End.

“This I – I’ve seen this before! How did–”

Before he could be accused of stealing the key or something worse, Bilbo explained. “It was in the puzzle box you gave me, f-from your brother, along with this note.”

“Note?” Thorin looked like someone had wounded him, skin waxy like he’d been sick and eyes wide with a glassy expression. His hands shook as he reached over the hobbit and picked up the fragile letter. For a moment, with an item in each hand, Thorin faltered, unwilling to set one down to deal with the other. Trying to help, Bilbo offered his assistance, nearly having to pry the key out of Thorin’s grip so the dwarf could unfold the letter.

Bilbo was kind enough not to mention that Thorin hands were shaking so badly the paper rattled like it was about to fall to pieces. Instead, he let the dwarf sag against him as Thorin read the mysterious letter, never once interrupting the dwarf with questions though his mind was overflowed with them.

“It’s–” Thorin broke off with a wet laugh. “It’s from Frerin, that troll, see,” the dwarf pointed at a squiggly bit of runes near the top. “He calls me naraglavammuzm, which in my language means badger, his nickname for me. He used to tell the tale over and over to anyone who would listen, of our first hunting trip together and my… _encounter_ with one of those cursed beasts. He would swear up and down to Mahal that the thing was in love with my scowling face and that’s why it chased us up and down the plains of Esgaroth. The fool. He was much like Kili is now, with a wild spirit and a mischievous temperament. Handy with a battle axe, but put him in front of the councilmen and he’d start a civil war. I used to threaten to make him ambassador to Mirkwood when I’d be finally King.”

Bilbo pressed a smile into Thorin’s shoulder, nodding along as the dwarf continued reading, fingers running across the script as he read each line.

“See here,” Thorin stopped, gesturing towards a passage Bilbo couldn’t read. “He goes on about how our mother spoiled me, the liar, and then makes fun of the fact I hadn’t grown a beard until I was nearly eighty. As if his straggly beard was any better, Kili has more of a stubble than he did at that age. Ha! See that, he calls me dimwitted for taking so long opening the puzzle box. He’d laugh himself hoarse if he knew that I had to have a hobbit open it.”

“He sounds like a character,” Bilbo said softly, watching Thorin face.  The dwarf’s expression was transforming between joyful elation and bitter sadness at every sentence he read, tears gathering at the corner of his eyelashes and a wide smile breaking across his face. Bilbo put an arm around Thorin’s waist, hoping that his presence would help in some way and preparing for the eventual breakdown. The dwarf seemed to unconsciously lean into Bilbo’s weight, one of his elbows tucked against the hobbit’s stomach and thighs so close Bilbo could feel the minute trembling all through his body.

Thorin swallowed thickly, scratching sluggishly at his neck. “He was.” A tear slipped down the King’s cheek. “He was. He was a–” Thorin broke off, sobbing into his hands and the letter drifted to his lap.

Bilbo couldn’t stand to see his dwarf in pain, couldn’t sit indifferently next to him as Thorin fell apart in front of him. He tugged the dwarf closer, tucking Thorin’s head under his chin and wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders, rocking them slowly. Thorin’s tears stained the hobbit’s beautiful clothes, but he couldn’t care less. Bilbo’s heart ached like someone had pricked him repetitively with tiny pins, and he felt like he was bleeding slowly out of numerous holes and drowning in sorrow. Bilbo grieved with Thorin, knowing the letter was a sweet reminder of his loss, of the hollowed absence Thorin’s brother had left in the wake of his death.

“Shh, it’s fine. Let it out,” Bilbo murmured gently. Thorin tried to contain his sobs, gasping for air like he was suffocating, tense and trembling at the same time in the hobbits arms. It was discerning, to see such a proud dwarf in such a state, but Bilbo would never hold it against him. Thorin deserved just as much right as anyone else to grieve.   

“I– I don’t,” Thorin coughed, hiding his face against Bilbo’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Why ever not?” Bilbo asked incredulously. “You cannot think I would love you less because of a few mournful tears?”

“It is not-t very kingly of me,” Thorin grumbled against the hobbit’s skin, sniffling loudly.

Bilbo scoffed, “Thorin, your brother might have been on to something, you are sometimes dimwitted.”

Thorin laughed wetly, shoulders and back shaking under Bilbo’s hand. He nuzzled his cold nose against the hobbit’s neck, skin wet where it brushed against his collarbone. Bilbo felt his heart swell and a wave of affection for the dwarf made him hold Thorin even tighter, squeezing until the other grunted. Thorin’s arms wrapped firmly around him, clutching back just as tightly until Bilbo thought he would no longer be able to breathe. He pressed tender kisses along Thorin’s temple and round ear, pulling the dwarf’s pony tail loose and combing his fingers through his hair.

The fire popped, startling Bilbo for a moment. He glanced up across the room and away from Thorin. For just a second, he thought he saw movement, but it turned out to be one of the tapestries rustling from an unknown air current. Bilbo shrugged it off, bewildered at his paranoia and feeling silly for thinking they weren’t alone. Who on Middle-Earth would sneak into Thorin’s chambers uninvited while the dwarf was occupying company? Everything looked the same as it had moments ago and none of the servants had snuck in to clean up, so Bilbo turned his attention back to Thorin.      

Bilbo sat and held the dwarf King for a while, until Thorin’s shuddering breathing tapered off and the tears no longer flowed. Both looked a little worse for wear for such an evening, Bilbo’s clothes rumbled and messy while Thorin’s face was blotchy and swollen from crying. It had turned out to be a surprisingly emotional evening for both of them.  

Thorin pulled back, face flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

The hobbit shrugged, “I would rather I be here than let you go through this alone. I understand what it’s like to lose a loved one.”

“Yes,” Thorin muttered, scrubbing his face with his palms. “I suppose so.”

Reaching over the cushions, Bilbo picked up the letter before it wafted into the fire, carefully handing it back over to Thorin. “Your brother sounds amazing. I would have liked to have met him.”

Thorin’s lips twitched down into a frown. “You would have liked him better than me. I would have had to duel him for your hand in marriage as dwarf tradition.”

“I rather doubt that,” Bilbo scoffed, setting a hand on Thorin’s thigh.

There was still more of the letter for Thorin to go through, and he read through it unhurriedly, savoring each word like they were precious gems. He’d pause every now and then to take a moment to breathe through his emotions, trying not to let them overwhelm him again. Bilbo sat calmly and watched, smiling along with Thorin when he stopped to explain a passage in the letter and patting the dwarf sympathetically when he went on a rant about something Frerin accused him of. It seemed the King’s brother was very fond of riddles and games, the whole point of the key locked away in the puzzle box was just another challenge for Thorin to discover.

“I don’t understand,” Thorin said, his frustration growing. “What sort of treasure would Frerin hide from me? Something precious but easily missed? I would have noticed if he’d stolen something from me to hide away, he was not as subtle as he liked to think he was.”

“What else does it say?” Bilbo asked curiously, leaning over to look at the runes. He’d always loved a good riddle, more so if there was a prize at the end of it. His father used to read him riddles from his books as Bilbo was growing up, sneaking him cookies and fruit tarts if he got the answer right.   

Thorin frowned, confused by his brother’s message. “Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole.”    

Bilbo gasped, “But Durin’s Day is tomorrow!”

“Grey stone? The whole mountain is made of grey stones!” Thorin growled, brows furrowed heavily as he checked over the riddle once more.

“When the thrush knocks…” Bilbo tapped at his chin in thought. It didn’t sound too much like a hard puzzle to figure out, pretty straight forward in instructions if you knew where to start. “Do you suppose we should talk to the ravens? They could translate a message to a thrush and we could see if they know anything about what your brother was talking about.”

“Roӓc has taken a message to the Lord of Rivendell for Gandalf and he is not scheduled to return until tomorrow. The others are off on similar errands preparing for the coronation and the only ones left are the fledglings who are not familiar yet with our language. They will just as much tell you false tales instead of the truth to get a treat.”

“Oh,” Bilbo’s excitement wilted. Frerin’s riddle was on a time constraint and unless Thorin was willing to wait for a year, they would have to solve it soon.

Taking the key back from Bilbo, the dwarf examined the runes along the edges. “This must be for the concealed key-hole. The Doors of Durin at the western entrance of Khazad-dûm bore a design engraved in Ithildin and only when the moon was out in full and the ancient words spoken, would the silver lines outlining the appear. There could be something similar in Erebor, though it must be long forgotten for me not to have heard of it.”

“Maybe your brother rediscovered it?” Bilbo said, shrugging. “Was he fond of old maps?”

Thorin puckered his lips, like he’d tasted something sour. “I am unsure. He did spend time in the library, more than either Dis or I, but he never seemed particularly fond of books or scrolls.”

“We could ask Master Balin or Ori,” Bilbo suggested. “They might know something.”

“Frerin most likely discovered it on one of his silly adventures,” Thorin argued instead, staring deeply into the fire as he folded the letter up and stuck it into one of his pockets with the key. Bilbo winced, hoping it wouldn’t tear or get wrinkled anymore than it already was. “He liked to travel and could never stay put in one spot for too long.” Then the dwarf jerked, like he’d been startled by a thought. “This secret door might not even be in Erebor! Maybe it is in the Iron Hills, or the Blue Mountains? It would be just like him to get me worked up thinking the hidden door is in Erebor when it is all the way across the Misty Mountains.”

Bilbo bit his lip in unease. He rather hoped the riddle wasn’t for a door halfway across Middle-Earth, it would seem cruel and unusual to do something like that. “But isn’t Durin’s Day a special holiday for your people?”

“No, it is a dwarf holiday celebrated by all.” Thorin swept Bilbo’s hands up in his, getting quickly to his feet and urging the hobbit to do the same. “Come, I have an idea. I know someone who might know something of this riddle.”

“Gandalf?” Bilbo asked, cocking his head to the side as the dwarf hurried him along.

“No,” Thorin’s voice rose in excitement. “Someone else.” Bilbo couldn’t help but smile at the dwarf’s enthusiasm, Thorin herding the hobbit with an arm around his waist and a spring to his step.

“My things,” Bilbo wailed, trying to wriggle out of Thorin’s arms to retrieve his courting gifts.

“We’ll come back for them,” the dwarf King reassured. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet before it gets too late.”

They burst out of the room, startling the servants from their nap in the corridor. Thorin waved them inside with orders to clean up while they were away, Bilbo squawking at the unsympathetic treatment of the others, noticing how sleepy some of the dwarves looked. But Thorin either didn’t care or was too caught up in his thoughts to listen to the hobbit. The servants shuffled inside the room with naught a grumble and Bilbo barely had a chance to glance over his shoulder, trying to find Nori before they disappeared from view but the other dwarf had completely vanished.   

“Where are we going?” Bilbo tried not to trip over his own feet. Thorin was rushing him so fast he could hardly find his footing down the dark hallway.  They were heading towards the end of the hall, where a large black door was guarded by two colossal, stone dwarf statues wielding sharp axes. It was an intimidating sight, even if the eyes of the statues didn’t look like they were watching him from every angle, judging and scowling at the hobbit in their halls. 

Thorin halted them right in front of the door and turned to face the hobbit. He fussed at Bilbo’s braid, smoothed down the lapels of the hobbit’s ruby coat, and after a moment of hesitation, slipped one of the many rings from his finger onto Bilbo’s. It looked to be made of the same material as the hobbit’s corslet, silver with a blue square stone capture in a square, geometric cage. Bilbo gaped at it for a moment, hands stiff as he stared down at the jewelry as Thorin fixed his own clothing.

The dwarf might not know it, but he’d just put the ring on the finger traditionally used for marriage. It was a very bold declaration by hobbit standards to do such a thing before having a ceremony, almost tantamount to eloping. If Lobelia saw Bilbo at this very moment, she’d faint in shock.    

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, “This is –” he coughed, cheeks turning pink as he started to sweat. The dwarf still didn’t look quite as recovered from his weeping earlier so he looked sickly and frenzied and Bilbo worried that maybe they shouldn’t visit others while Thorin was in this state. “I didn’t want to… I mean–”

“Thorin?”

Flustered, Thorin leaned forward and graced Bilbo with a quick kiss. “Just, remember I am here with you.”

“Of course,” Bilbo said automatically, flexing his hand and trying valiantly to ignore the heavy weight of the ring on his finger. Thorin nodded, then, with one last glance over them both to make sure they were presentable, the King of the Mountain knocked loudly on the black door.  

A wizard answered.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem is actually from Pablo Neruda’s ‘100 Love Sonnets’. There were quite a few lovely ones and I recommend you give it a read.
> 
> Onaxe has made some beautiful fanart, suggests everyone should give it a looksie and compliment them on how wonderful they are! http://slashdragonness.tumblr.com/post/55428409441/the-dwarf-bent-over-and-picked-up-the-apple-bilbo 
> 
> So the Khuzdul was translated from: here Which did you know that Gimil means star? How cool is that!
> 
> I’m unsure if Bard has a uncle or not, but since I wasn’t certain how some would take it if I made the farmer’s daughter Bard’s wife since he doesn’t really have an established love interest, I went with a relative instead. I thought I remember he had a son while the ‘The Hobbit’ was happening? Either way, I think Bard is a very young and sympathetic character so I could see him trying to make the transition easier from peasant to royalty for a pretty young woman who might have made a hasty decision being talked into a marriage. 
> 
> For those who asked, the recipe for bread pudding is from this site.


	34. The White Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets the man who raised Thorin and a few other important characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this is over 10k long!!

****

The wizard, or what Bilbo assumed was a wizard given his clothing and staff, squinted down at them from under the flaps of his large brown hat. All three of them stared at each other for a moment in surprise before the wizard suddenly sneezed, spraying green mucus all over Thorin. The dwarf jerked back, a look of disgust on his face, and after snorting loudly into a clean, white silk handkerchief, the wizard continued to glower at them like it was their fault he was ill. 

Bilbo stood there gaping at the two, unsure what to do as Thorin attempted to wipe the slime off.

“What do you want?” The brown wizard grumbled. “Speak up, don’t waste my time now. I got things to do and places to go. Don’t have all day to stand here and let you gawp at me. Everybody’s asking me to do things for them, but do they give me any time to prepare? No! They have me running around a mountain asking for things that are out of season. Poor Sebastian got sick on the ride over, couldn’t take all the hills we had to go over.”

Bilbo’s jaw clicked shut at the wizard’s words, startled to be treated so rudely. He was a bit puzzled over the old man’s words, since none of it made any sense, and wondered what a wizard, besides Gandalf, was doing in the Mountain anyhow. He cleared his throat, ready to introduce himself as were his manners, when he was nearly choked to death by Thorin yanking him back by the collar of his shirt.  

“Who are you?” Thorin growled, pushing Bilbo back behind him. “Why are you in my father’s room? Where’s Gandalf?”

“Gandalf?” The wizard sneezed again, nose scrunching up like he smelt something foul. “Gandalf _who_?”

Clinging to the back of Thorin’s coat, Bilbo stared speechlessly back and forth at the two, unsure what precisely was happening. Was the wizard an enemy of Erebor or just a confused old man? With so many people in and around Erebor for the festival it would be easy for someone to sneak in to attack the ailing King. Bilbo really rather hoped to avoid bloodshed today of all days and thanked Eru silently that Thorin didn’t have his sword with him.

Thorin patted his hip looking for a weapon but only found a small pocket knife in his coat pocket, which looked more like a letter opener than an actual knife. Thorin brandished it in front of him, waving it at the unimpressed wizard with a snarl. “If you do not tell me who you are, I will assume you are a spy and–”

“Thorin!” Gandalf interrupted loudly, peeking over the other wizard’s shoulder with a twinkle to his eyes. “And Bilbo. What are you two doing here so late at night? Why are you not enjoying your quiet evening together?”

“Gandalf,” Thorin snarled, gesturing with his knife at the brown wizard and glaring at Gandalf. “What is the meaning of this? Who is this man?”

Gandalf chuckled, puffing at his pipe casually. “Why, this is my good friend and esteemed colleague Radagast the Brown. Please Radagast, let them through. This is Thorin, son of Thráin and as of tomorrow, King of the Mountain. His companion is a dear friend of mine, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.”

Bilbo gave the wizard the proper bow, not wanting to potentially offend someone so powerful. He’d never seen another wizard before. In fact, Bilbo hadn’t known there were others besides Gandalf until this very moment. He quelled the questions that threatened to bubble up, wanting to ask if there were more wizards and how powerful they were compared to Gandalf. It would have been an interesting debate, if Thorin hadn’t looked ready to murder the wizards where they stood. Bilbo figured he could ask his questions later when things had settled down.

“From the Shire, a hobbit?” Radagast inquired, foul mood morphing to happy surprise. “Such a lovely folk. But why on Middle-Earth would a hobbit be in a mountain? It’s such a dreadful place,” he said conspiratorially to Bilbo. “The only green things around are the stones and there’s nary a flower to be found _inside_ a mountain, you best be heading back to your hills, little one. Unless they’re holding you hostage.”

“Hostage!” Thorin bristled like Mr. Pumpernickel when confronted with a bath, spitting the words out like poison. “You dare think I would hold Bilbo hostage!”

“Now now, Thorin,” Gandalf sighed, trying to alleviate the situation before it got out of hand. Radagast was watching the dwarf warily, looking him over and obviously finding him wanting by his expression. Thorin seemed to return the judgment if his sneer was anything to go by.

“You said this one was to be King, Gandalf?” The brown wizard muttered loudly out of the side of his mouth. “Seems a bit _short_ tempered.” He snickered, elbowing the grey wizard in amusement.  

Thorin sputtered, cheeks flushing red and teeth clenching in anger. Bilbo thought it was in bad taste when the big folk started making snide comments about a dwarf’s – or hobbit’s – height. It showed a lack of originality. At least Gandalf seemed to find the other wizard’s joke as humorless as Bilbo did, rolling his eyes before handing over a cloth for Thorin to tidy himself up with.

“Thank you, Gandalf,” the dwarf grumbled, cleaning the last of the mucus off his brow. “I don’t know how it is possible but the company you keep is more discourteous than your own. I would think better of you both if your associate knew how to properly greet a host in his own home.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo whined, tugging on the back of the dwarf’s jacket. “He’s a _wizard,_ be respectful.”

Thorin glared up at Radagast. “I would be respectful if I had any confidence this old man _was_ a wizard and not a crazed fool wandering around my Mountain insulting me.” 

Radagast’s chuckles abruptly cut off and he huffed loudly at the insult. Gandalf shot Thorin a sharp look. “Be wary of the company I keep, for they are not all what they seem. It would do you best to watch your tongue, Thorin Oakenshield, or you might find yourself without one in the morning. 

“No!” Bilbo yelled, shaking with dread. “Please don’t! He didn’t mean–” Everyone’s attention turned towards the hobbit and Bilbo squeaked, flushing under the attention. “Um, s-sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Gandalf smiled indulgently at the hobbit, eyes twinkling in mischief and cheeks glowing with pleasure. “Nothing to be sorry for, my boy. Let all but Thorin forget this moment ever happened. Come inside, both of you. I imagine there’s someone very important that Thorin wants to introduce you to, Bilbo.”

Grumbling under his breath, Radagast hobbled into the hall ahead of them, his staff clinking against the polished stone floor. Thorin growled something in Khuzdul, glaring fiercely at the wizard’s back as he clutched the hobbit tightly against him. They walked down the hallway hand in hand, clinging tight to each other like the walls were closing in on them.

The long hallway was carved from dark, obsidian stone as black as a moonless sky. The tiny gold lanterns flickered long, reedy shadows on the ceiling like dancing specters reveling at their entry. There were bloody suits of armor standing guard all along the wall, as well as multiple weapons still embedded in Orc skulls, displayed like gory trophies. The tapestries were woven with scenes of great battles. One large one at the end of the hall over the door was of Isildur on an exploding Mount Doom, throwing the ring of power into the hot thick lava as a bloodcurdling creature riding a black dragon reached for him. Man, Elf, and Dwarf were behind him, supporting the King of Gondor as he rid the world once and for all of the evil menace of Sauron.

Thorin had to tug Bilbo a couple of times to get him to stop gaping up at the thing, Radagast and Gandalf had already pushed through the door into the room and Bilbo had to stumble after the wizards in an attempt to catch up. Sharing one last look of concern with the hobbit, Thorin held the large oak door open for him.

Brilliant beams of light radiated out into the hallway and chased away all the sinister shadows behind them. Bilbo had to turn away and blink a few times before he could even see, for, glowing with the light of the sun on a clear afternoon in the Shire, was the largest crystal chandelier ever imaginable. Glittering with iridescent gems hanging off swirling gold vines, ropes of precious stones draped from the ceiling to the base, sparkling under the radiance of about twenty glowing balls placed all along the rim.  

Bilbo blinked again, then gasped loudly. The room they had entered in was a dazzling, sparkling space made completely of beautiful glowing crystals in every color imaginable and then set into the walls. The crowning, the ceiling, even some of the furniture was completely covered in jewels and made of large gems. Even the he lanterns in the room sparkled from their crystal glass covering, warm and glowing like a hot summer day, bouncing light off the flawless interior of the chamber. On the other side of the room was a large stained-glass window in the shape of circle, seven stars and a golden crown depicted on its colorful glass surface. There was a table made completely from one large pink diamond, a cluster of gems somehow molded together into chairs with soft plush, silk cushions. Decorations and trinkets all about the room were made from colored stones and beautiful crystals, encrusted in gold. It all looked exquisitely beautiful and precious and Bilbo was afraid to touch anything or risk leaving dirty smudges everywhere.  

Thorin, who seemed unmoved by the beauty around him, tugged the hobbit further inside.

Further in the room were three figures; two taller, both in white, and one short, conversing over a glass tabletop set for tea. One of the figures in white turned to greet them, her soft, melodious voice calling out across the room, “Mithrandir, Aiwendil, come join us.”  

Bilbo felt his whole body freeze, his breath literally stolen from him by the sight in front of him. An elf maiden, more fair and beautiful than any of the jewels in the room around him stood gracefully before them. Clad wholly in white, tall with pale, golden hair and eyes as keen as lances in starlight, the elf smiled at their company and she greeted them like friends, her coral pink lips curling softly upward and eyelashes fluttering as delicately as the wings of a butterfly. She looked elegant and lovely, more regal than any other the hobbit had met or seen before. He felt his heart skipping a beat as her eyes fixed on him.

Distantly, Bilbo felt Thorin tug at his hand, but it felt like his feet had taken root and he could not move. Elf and hobbit watched one another, the air around them crackling with tension. It was an odd feeling, to be caught in the gaze of one like the elf maiden’s, a feeling akin to something like his heart and mind being suddenly opened and laid bare, like a book for her to casually peruse. A sharp shock traveled up his spine and there was a sudden warmth permeating throughout his limbs, leaving his toes and fingers tingling with the residual charge.  

Then the other figure in white stepped forwards and cut off their locked gaze.

“Prince Thorin, what are you doing here so late?” A tall, thin man in white with a black staff moved forward to loom over them. His hair was long and straight, his robes a simple white, his face pale and his expression harsh. Bilbo felt almost an immediate dislike towards the man and couldn’t say why. “Who is this halfling and what is he doing in the Mountain?”

Before Thorin could bristle at being ordered around in his own Kingdom, the elf maiden set a calming hand on the white wizard’s shoulder. “Curunír, can you not see?” She shared a fond look with Gandalf. “This is the halfling Mithrandir has told us about.”

The white wizard scoffed as a smaller figure in red pushed through the group. “Really now! The one that Thorin’s taken to bothering? Let me see, let me see! Ah, here we are.”

“Khagam,” Thorin rushed into the open arms of the older dwarf. They chortled at each other, laughing merrily against the other’s shoulder as they hugged freely. The older dwarf had a mix of black and grey through his long hair, his beard almost completely grey where it was twisted down into three gold-covered plates.  He was short and stout in build, his nose the same sharp peak as Thorin’s. The crown on the older dwarf’s head was the same crown Bilbo had seen Thorin wearing before when he’d been sitting on the throne. Dressed in heavy red clothe and golden armor, in such a room surrounded by such important people, Bilbo could only assume the man was Thorin’s father, King Thráin.

“My boy,” the older dwarf said fondly, pulling back and patting Thorin’s sides. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Thorin winced. “I was here earlier, father. Remember?”

Thráin squinted his one good eye at Thorin. “Were you?”

Thorin smiled weakly back. “Yes. I needed to borrow some of mother’s old recipes.”

“Oh.” The news appeared to distress the old King. He wrinkled his nose and tugged at his beard in agitation, his whole body twitching almost uncontrollably until Gandalf patted Thráin on the back. Thorin’s expression suddenly shifted to concern as he watched his father’s movements, moving away as the older dwarf eventually settled.

“Have some Old Toby, Master Thráin,” Gandalf passed over a burning pipe. “It will do your nerves some good.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my nerves,” Thráin growled, accepting the pipe and puffing at it angrily.

“Father,” Thorin said weakly.

“It’s not my nerves!” the older dwarf reiterated.  “It’s all of you, saying I did things that I can’t remember. Even my own son!”

Thorin swallowed loudly, face pale with pain. “That’s not–”

“Don’t argue with me!” Thráin raged. “I know what everyone says behind my back, that I’ve gone mad with goldlust. But they don’t know that my own council has turned against me, trying to poison me, calling me paranoid for thinking that someone is trying to kill me. They’ll see, once I’m found dead in my bed the next morning, like my poor Eydis.”

“No one’s trying to kill you,” Thorin pleaded, fist clenched tightly at his side. Bilbo felt his heart ache as the wounded tone of the dwarf’s voice. “Father, how can you think that?”

“Master Thorin is correct,” Gandalf interrupted before the argument could get worse. “No one is trying to kill you, least of all your council members.”

Thráin seemed unconvinced, arms flailing wildly as he turned from Thorin to Gandalf, face red with anger. “I know how their minds work. They want Thorin to be seated on the throne before my time is up. They think he is easily controllable compared to me or Frerin. The boy has a weak spirit, thinks it’s in the people’s best interest when he’s really only helping the council fill their pocketbooks with _my_ gold. I see the hunger in their eyes, I know the greed of their hearts. Thorin would be easily overthrown if they had their way.”

Gandalf coughed in amusement, smoke curling out of his nose like a dragon. “Are you suggesting that you just live forever then, Master Thráin?”

“Yes,” the older dwarf said easily, settling now that he thought they were all in agreement.

Bilbo watched as Thorin’s face slowly crumbled at his father’s words. Unsure what to do in the situation, Bilbo reached forward and pulled Thorin’s hand into his, hoping that some contact from the hobbit would help his dwarf. 

Gandalf put a heavy hand on the older dwarf’s shoulder and steered him back towards the other two figures. “Now that everything is settled and we are in accord that you should live forever despite your council’s ‘numerous’ assassination attempts, would you be reasonable and take your medicine? Remember what the Lady Galadriel said. ”

The older dwarf huffed, his large nose wrinkled up in agitation. “Elves, think they know everything.”

Instead of being insulted, the elf maiden seemed more entertained by the comment than anything else. She shared a look with Gandalf, the corner of her mouth turned up in amusement.

“It is your mind, Master dwarf,” the white wizard interrupted with an exasperated look. “If you would take the medicine Lord Elrond has given you, you might remember things better.”  

“Elf magic,” Thráin spat, tossing his beard over his shoulder and hobbling up to the table. “I’m only taking it because the Lady Galadriel insists, and I trust her council more than others. But you are witness, Gandalf, if I shall be ill tomorrow you know the elves are trying to murder me also.”

“I very much doubt that,” Gandalf muttered, blowing a smoke ring as he watched the dwarf down the hot tea left on the table. He made a face at the taste of it, scrunching his face up and puckering his lips. “Blah! Tastes like dirty socks.”

“Taste is not a concern,” the white wizard remarked.

“Says the person not drinking it,” Thráin mumbled.

Thorin’s apprehension seemed to ease after watching his father take his medicine. His hand no longer squeezed Bilbo’s tightly and his shoulders appeared to relax. The hobbit was a bit confused by the exchange between father and son, but knew it wasn’t his place to question it in front of so many people. Either way he wished he could excuse himself and Thorin for a moment so the dwarf could compose himself without an audience.

 “Now that we’ve gotten your suspicions out of the way, Master Thráin,” Gandalf called out. “Thorin has someone important to introduce you too.”

“Oh!” The older dwarf cheered up, shaking off the noxious taste of the tea with a long draw from his pipe. “Today is a day for meeting new people it seems.”

Bilbo looked quickly at Gandalf, raising an eyebrow in silent inquire.

“Khagam, father.” Thorin shook off the awkward accusation from his father like it had never happened. It distressed Bilbo that the dwarf’s attitude towards his father probably meant he was used to it, and his heart ached at the pain Thorin no doubt experienced. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have one’s father say such cruel things about them. Bilbo knew Thorin took his duties as King very seriously and to have Thráin say he wasn’t good enough probably hurt him more than the hobbit could imagine.

Thorin pulled Bilbo forward, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I want you to meet Bilbo Baggins, my One.”

Bilbo gulped loudly, knees stiff and hands fisted at his sides. He had not expected to be so bluntly introduced. He wished Thorin had given him some measure to prepare himself for this meeting  – for greetings one’s future in-laws for the first time was a major deal in the Shire that took careful planning and particular timing if one wanted to make the right impression, much less to an future in-law who was a _King_. Bilbo at least would have brought some sort of treat or pastry to introduce himself. He felt rude and ill-mannered for coming empty handed.

Thráin’s eye moved from Thorin to Bilbo and back again, eyebrows raised in clear surprise. “He is your One?”

Thorin nodded, one hand moving to Bilbo’s lower back as if to steady him. Side-by-side they stood together under Thráin’s scrutinizing gaze, the wizards and elf-maiden standing tall behind the King, like sentries on watch. Bilbo’s stomach churned like the inside of a volcano, bubbling and roiling with nerves  and the hobbit worried for a moment that he would be sick right on the dwarf King’s shiny boots. Thankfully, Thorin’s presence grounded him and Bilbo was able to focus on Thorin rather than the King’s penetrating stare.

Suddenly Thráin’s hand jerked towards him and Bilbo flinched back, but before he knew it two large arms were going around his shoulders and engulfing him into a hug. “Thorin, you cad! Why didn’t you say something sooner! Bilbo Baggins, excuse my boy’s manners, he should have introduced us sooner. Really, he’s always been a bit dense when it comes to hobbit customs, never paid an ounce of attention to his lessons if they didn’t have some form of fighting or war making. Frerin was always better at relations with the hobbits, had a young lass down in the Shire he was interested in before that mess with Druella happened.”

Bilbo squeaked, hissing loudly as the air was squeezed out of his lungs and his feet were lifted right off the floor. The elf and Radagast chuckled, falling back towards the sitting area as the family made introductions. The other wizard followed after them, shaking his heads and rolling his eyes in obvious exasperation.

“Father! Don’t–” Thorin stared to yell but was cut off.                  

“He’s so soft,” Thráin said, setting the hobbit down. Then he sniffed at Bilbo’s hair, “Smells good too. You’ll enjoy having this one to come home to, Thorin, he’ll make a good bed companion. Just remember to be gentle in your lovemaking, you can’t be too rough or you could really damage him.”

Bilbo wondered what was wrong with the Durin’s family that they had no knowledge of personal space, appropriate conversation subjects, or proper manners. Feeling the hand on his back slowly creeping lower, Bilbo jerked back and caught the King’s wrist before his hand could reach the hobbit’s rump. He gave the King a contemptuous frown which seemed to amuse the dwarf greatly.  

“Father!” Thorin’s voice sounded strained and aggrieved. Gandalf, who had stuck around to watch in amusement, snickered to himself until he started to cough. Bilbo would have been concerned if the wizard’s laughter wasn’t at his expense.

“Feisty,” the King winked at Bilbo, allowing Thorin to snatch the hobbit back and pull him into his protecting arms. “He’s not a bad choice, Thorin.” Thráin turned his back on them, strolling casually over to where the elf maiden and Radagast had taken a seat by the fire. “Though I maintain that anyone who can handle you or your brother are made of sterner stuff than they seem. You have my approval of course.” He waved at them from over his shoulder, sitting across from the elf lady and starting a conversation up with the white wizard. The matter of Bilbo being an appropriate spouse to Thorin appeared, for all purposes, done with.

Thorin’s mouth opened like he was going to say something, but it quickly clamped it shut when he saw the look on Gandalf’s face. The old wizard suddenly looked haggard and tired, shoulder hunched as he followed after the older dwarf. Finally, after a long moment, Thorin turned to Bilbo.

“I’m sorry for not warning you.”

Bilbo blinked in surprise. “What, that your father is a leech? I was adequately prepared for it after meeting your sister, Thorin.”

“Ah,” Thorin breathed, looking only a tiny bit relieved. “Not quite what I meant, but nonetheless I am sorry for that also. He’s not quite…” Thorin motioned towards his head, signing something that Bilbo couldn’t quite recognize but comprehended nonetheless.

“Thorin,” Bilbo said, “you don’t have to explain. I think I understand.”

And Bilbo did understand. Considering the old King’s age, Bilbo wasn’t too surprised. Thráin had lived a long and prosperous life, and time was just catching up to him. It happened sometimes in the Shire. The Old Took had lived past a hundred, but his last few years weren’t pleasant for many involved. His family was often distressed by his befuddled memories and the old hobbit had a hard time with even some of the simplest tasks. One summer after he turned one-twenty-seven, the Old Took completely forgot his letters and couldn’t read the signs to find his way home and disappeared from the Shire completely. Eventually, months later, Gandalf had returned the old hobbit after finding him halfway to Rivendell through the Misty Mountains. No one could be quite sure how he managed to get that far without hurting himself, but the Old Took had mentioned a shape shifting bear for weeks afterwards. In his last days before his death, he conspired with Belladonna on the circumstances of his lone adventure, and little Bilbo had sat at his bedside and listened along. His mother had had explained the situation to him afterward.

“He just forgets,” the dwarf rushed to clarify “He can’t always recall the past and he’ll fail to remember things he’s always known. The other day he thought I was my uncle and he kept asking after mother, he couldn’t seem to grasp that almost a hundred and fifty years has passed since she’s been around. He’s in complete denial about Frerin’s death. His mind is… confused.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo repeated, trying to be reassuring. “It’s alright. Sometimes it happens to the older hobbits in the Shire as well.”

Thorin pursed his lips, still looking displeased. “You do not understand though, he could think you are an enemy and attack. He’s been on about assassination attempts for the last year and a half. He won’t even let the guards in to watch him anymore.”

 “Has he done that before?” Bilbo felt a creeping sensation up his spine. “Attacked someone?”

“Well, no,” Thorin said, scratching at the back of his neck. “The doctors said it might be a possibility though with strangers. He’s never attacked anyone as of yet, though he likes to accuse everyone he meets as attempting to murder him at least once. I’m not sure if he believes _everyone_ is out to get him, since he seems to think it’s a game when it comes to my nephews. It doesn’t always help but they will at least consider his accusations and investigate it before dismissing them. It calms him to think that he at least has someone on his side and he’s not as violent as he could be.”

The hobbit relaxed. “Oh, well then.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but think that Thorin sounded very bitter that his father preferred his nephews over him. Maybe the medicine Lord Elrond had prescribed would help? If Thráin could access his memories correctly and control himself better, he would remember what a great warrior and leader his only living son was. If there was no way to cure Thráin completely, at least a moment of clarity would help, especially with tomorrow being Thorin’s coronation.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Thorin said, pulling Bilbo close into a hug. “I don’t want you to be troubled by my family. They can be stressful on their own without any added illness or injury.”

Bilbo chuckled, running his hand up and down Thorin’s side. “Like I said, it’s fine. I think you should be more worried about _my_ family. At least yours has the excuse of being royalty for their eccentrics, mine are said to be one of the most upstanding in the Westfarthing and they are still able to drive me mental with their good intentions.”

Thorin smiled softly, knocking his forehead against the hobbit’s. “Your family is wonderful, you are lucky to have them safe and happy.”

“I am,” Bilbo said, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent wafting off the dwarf. “And they will be your family soon enough, then you’ll wish you never met me.”

Thorin gave a sharp bark of laughter. “They _were_ quite taken with me last I saw them. Your grandmother said I had a nice set of hands for a dwarf, good for gardening I’m told. I would have taken her comment at face value if I hadn’t caught your cousin’s blushing and giggling like they had afterwards. Should I fear for my virtue?”

The hobbit felt his cheek inflame, cursing his relatives for their lewdness. At least they hadn’t asked to see Thorin’s feet or anything, which would have been embarrassing to explain later, but it was still bad enough they made a comment about his hands.    

“Yes, well, nevermind them,” Bilbo hurried Thorin towards the others. “Let’s sit and have a chat now. Unless you have somewhere else you want us to go?”

They took a seat together on a loveseat Bilbo was suspicious was left empty specifically for them. Gandalf and the elf shared a chaise and the King and white wizard had chairs of their own while Radagast paced around them, muttering about rabbits and birds.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf leaned forward. “Let me introduce you to some very good friends of mine. Next to me is the Lady of Lórien, Galadriel, wife of Celeborn and co-ruler of Lothlórien.”

The elf maiden tipped her head in a sort of bow, her long golden locks falling like a gilded waterfall over her shoulder. Her smile was sweet and her eyes so merry with gladness Bilbo thought for a moment he might collapse at her feet in worship if Thorin hadn’t put his hand on Bilbo’s thigh at just that moment.

“H-Hello my Lady,” Bilbo tipped forward as if to bow also, before remembering he was sitting down and flailing until Thorin caught him. Galadriel, laughed, not unkindly, as her laughter was like bells ringing on a cool summer eve, light and chiming with cheerfulness. Bilbo could feel his face heat up in embarrassment, knowing he was making a fool of himself in front of so many important people.

“And there is Radagast the Brown as you know, and Saruman the White, chief of the Istari and head of the White Council,” Gandalf continued, gesturing to each. “They are wizards like myself, who’ve come for the ceremony.”

“Not quite,” Saruman interrupted, standing suddenly and scowling at Gandalf. “I only came because you asked for my help with something you deemed… important. Now that we know I cannot offer you any assistance, I am heading back to Orthanc before the pass becomes too difficult to venture through. I feel a storm coming on the horizon and Rhovanion will have only a few more days before the first frost hits. The weather will not be easy for those journeying from Erebor in that time and I would be a fool to be one of them.”

Gandalf frowned up at the other wizard. “You will not stay to show your support to the new King of Erebor?”

Saruman hardly even gave Thorin or Thráin a glance. “He is one King of many.”

Bilbo looked at his dwarf to gauge what the wizard’s words meant to him. Thorin’s face was hidden half in shadow, though the room around them was sparkling with light from the crystals reflecting the light of the fire. His mouth was turned down and his eyebrows furrowed, but Bilbo could see an obvious hurt in the dwarf’s blue-grey eyes. Even if Bilbo did not love Thorin so, the rage that grew in his belly at the wizard’s careless comment was giving him enough courage to stand up for the unjust dismissal towards the future King. As it was, Bilbo found himself jumping to his feet to defend Thorin before he even knew it.

“He is not just any King though! He is Thorin Oakenshield, Ruler of Erebor, King of Durin’s folk and ally to the hobbits of the Shire! How dare you dismiss him. I consider your words insults to my future husband!”

“Bilbo!” Thorin hissed, reaching for him. But the hobbit shrugged him off, standing firm before the towering wizard. Saruman was mostly startled by the hobbit’s words than angered, blinking down at him with a blank expression.

Thráin started to laugh loudly and even Radagast paused in his pacing to watch the confrontation.

“Bilbo,” Gandalf sighed, hiding his smile behind his hands. Galadriel turned her face away, expression hidden by her hair, but her shoulder shook like she was barely holding in her laughter.

“Apologize,” Bilbo demanded of Saruman, ignoring the others.

The white wizard’s mouth opened and closed but nothing came out, his dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Stomping his foot, Bilbo puffed up his chest and was ready to let all his Tookish and Baggins fury out on the wizard when Thorin jumped forward and put a hand over his mouth. Bilbo tried to fight him, struggling and biting down on the dwarf’s hand until Thorin yelped and let him go.

“Ouch! That hurt,” Thorin whined, waving his hand in the air.  

“You deserved that,” Bilbo huffed, turning his glare on Thorin.

“I did not! I was trying to stop you from making a rash mistake,” Thorin grumbled, “but forgive me for trying to stop you from insulting leader of the Istari, please continue on. I’ll try not to be troubled when he turns you into something _unnatural_.”

“I was not _insulting_ him, I was just, well,” Bilbo pursed his lips in thought, a bit confused about why Thorin looked so worried. The dwarf had no compunction about upsetting Radagast. “You would think a wizard so old and powerful would have better manners than to go around offending future Kings. It doesn’t seem very smart to alienate a kingdom like Erebor.”

“Old!” The white wizard coughed.

“Err,” Bilbo turned back towards the others. “Well….”

“I was unaware the stubbornness of dwarves also applied to hobbits,” Saruman sneered, shaken from his shock by Bilbo and Thorin’s argument.

“Now, Saruman,” Gandalf stood, shaking the ash from his pipe. “Mr. Baggins brings up a good point. Erebor is an important kingdom in this area, and while we have seen many Kings set upon their throne, that does not mean we should neglect one or two because we’d rather be at home in our cozy slippers when winter begins.”

“Slippers,” Radagast snorted, giggling to himself.

“It is not about whether I am comfortable or not, Gandalf,” Saruman growled, shaking his staff at the other wizard. “It is about timing. I still have to find the Ents in Fangorn and talk to them about the Huorns before the Rohirrim make their yearly grievance about the ever encroaching trees. Then there have been complaints from the region around the Ettenmores that strange things have arisen and I must see to them. Soon after that, I must take the Redhorn pass to the Gladden Fields and investigate these rumors of Elendilmir. They say the lost jewel was found by a pair of fisherman from a nearby village and the King of Gondor is in a fuss about it since the peasants refuse to just hand over the treasure. It is a hassle but I cannot take much time to attend to things like a coronation ceremony between my other duties and my research.”

“Maybe a bit of rest and relaxation will do you well, Curunir,” Galadriel spoke up, her voice gentle and soothing. “Stay, feast with us. You will overwork yourself and lose sight of the things that really matter if you misplace your focus.”

The elf’s words seemed to soften everyone in the room and they all relaxed a little. Saruman still didn’t look happy, but he looked less like he was ready to turn Bilbo into a toad or hit Gandalf over the head with his staff.

“Well, I guess a day won’t hurt,” Saruman muttered, settling back into his chair. “But I really must leave soon after. Will you talk to Gwaihir for me Gandalf, to ask if he will see me over the forests of Mirkwood and the southern Misty Mountains?”

Gandalf brought out more pipe-weed, offering it to Thráin and Radagast both before seeing to his own pipe. “I will speak to him.”

Feeling a bit like he’d been ignored in all the discussion, Bilbo shook his fist at the white wizard. “I still have not heard the apology for Thorin.”

Thorin groaned and slumped back into the couch.

Eventually Bilbo got his apology, or an apology of sorts. Saruman had a silver tongue and his words were lengthy and extensive, and Bilbo was only able to keep up with half of what he said, but he was somewhat positive there was some mention of admission of guilt as well as a couple of insults thrown in about the dwarf’s taste in companions for good measure. The hobbit let the slight against him pass, not wanting to cause anymore of a ruckus than he already had. Instead Bilbo let himself be drawn into a conversation with Galadriel and Radagast about the types of trees growing in golden woods of Lothlórien while Thorin discussed politics with the wizards and his father.

It turned into a pleasant evening, all things considered. Thráin had even brought up a conversation about the Shire harvest with Bilbo, speaking with him at length about the expected yields for the autumn and what they planned to grow next season. Once in a while Bilbo would look up and catch Thorin watching them, an indulgent look on his face as he ignored the white wizard talking to him. Bilbo returned the dwarf’s smile before continuing his discussion with the old King, listening intently as Radagast joined them to speak about the type of nuts found in the Mirkwood and their uses in pies. It was a deeply fascinating discussion, for even the Lady Galadriel had her own opinion on what types of fruits and nuts would make an interesting dessert and they all seemed enthralled by Bilbo’s knowledge of the pie-making process.   

After a while Bilbo caught Thorin trying to hide a yawn, and asked aloud about the time. Gandalf seemed as surprised as the others that they had spent so long talking. Even Saruman who didn’t seem to get along with anyone but Galadriel, startled when he saw how much time had gone past.

“It seems my escort has arrived,” Galadriel said, and then a second later there was a knock at the door. Thranduil was shepherded inside with a couple of dwarf guards, his blue eyes wide with wonder as he looked about the room, fingers trailing on the crystal covered tables and gold crusted furniture.

“My lady,” Thranduil nodded towards them. “I have come to take you back to your rooms as promised.”

“Thank you, Thranduil,” Galadriel called out, gesturing the elf forward. The dwarf guards looked confused for a moment, before Thorin dismissed them. “How kind of you. How has your evening been? Is Legolas enjoying his stay?”

 “Yes, my Lady, in fact he would like to talk to you on what he considers a grievous matter he refused to speak with me about.” The elf’s mouth twisted into a pout. “Otherwise, our stay has been very pleasant so far.” The Elvenking shot Bilbo a wide smile. “Especially in the Shire.”

Bilbo felt his cheeks heat up in a blush. Thorin looked suspiciously between the hobbit and elf, mouth turned down in a frown.   

“I am sure,” Galadriel teased, raising an elegant eyebrow at them both. “I will join you in just a moment, Thranduil. I would like to speak to Mister Baggins alone first.”

“Me?” Bilbo squeaked, looking wildly around at the others to be sure.

Thorin didn’t look too happy about leaving Bilbo alone with an elf, but he followed the others into another room, leaving his seat next to Bilbo open for Galadriel to sit. She reached forward and took his hands in hers, smiling kindly down at him with sparkling blue eyes.

“M-My Lady?”

“Mister Baggins,” Galadriel said softly. “I wish to speak with you of your worries.”

“Worries?”

“They cloud your mind. You are troubled that you are not a good match for Prince Thorin, despite your love for him.”

“Oh.” Bilbo blinked, stunned that she had been able to pull that information from him although they had never talked about the subject.

Looking into her eyes was like staring up at the stars, intense and radiant like the brightest of Earendil’s starlights, and yet profoundly deep with wells of time. He felt like she was looking into his soul, staring at the very essence of his being. He felt like he was standing naked before her and telling her his deepest secrets, like she knew him better than even his mother. It was an unnerving feeling, considering he had only met her a few hours earlier.

Her soft hands held his gently, her skin shimmering white as a pearl. “You should have faith in yourself Bilbo Baggins, for none other could love him as deeply as you do. Though you are not born of any grand line of Kings, your heart is far nobler than any I have met in hundreds of years. You will do well at his side and Erebor will thrive under your combined rule.”

Bilbo bowed his head, thoughts in a frenzy as he tried to catch his breath. “B-but how do you know this? Have you seen the future somehow?”

Galadriel tipped her head sideways, her golden hair glowing like a halo around her. “I have seen into your heart Bilbo Baggins and I have seen into Thorin Oakenshield’s. What you two have together is a rare thing indeed and you would do yourself a disservice to abandon it because of your fears.” She pressed a hand on his chest, right where his heart was trying to hammer its way out of there. “Do not let your doubts prevent you from experiencing the most wonderful and a beautiful thing Ilúvatar has given you. Your love for one another will grow to be the greatest treasure ever known to come out of Erebor, if you just believe in yourself.”

Biting his lips, Bilbo could feel tears gathering at the corner of his eyes as the elf maiden brought forward all his uncertainties from the dark corners of his mind. He didn’t doubt the affection between Thorin and him, but he did worry that it wouldn’t be enough to make them a good match to rule a kingdom together. There was so much he didn’t know, so much he wasn’t born into, to help Thorin rule. Sometimes at night he lay awake thinking it would be better if Thorin just fell in love with a dwarf, a noble lady bred and groomed to be Queen, but his heart ached at the very thought.

“But, w-what about, oh bother,” He sniffled loudly, wiping his face with the sleeves of his gown. “I’m not fit to help h-him rule, I’ve had no training or experience.”

She pulled him forward into a hug, allowing Bilbo to rest his head upon her breast. The Lady Galadriel smelled like spring flowers just in bloom, a mix of youthful vibrancy and warm homeliness. Bilbo suddenly yearned to be back in Bag End, sitting in his favorite armchair and reading his books, peaking out his window and the grassy fields of wildflowers. “None are ever prepared for leadership, Bilbo Baggins, and only a fool would tell you so.”

“I guess,” Bilbo agreed softly, leaning into the elf’s embrace as she ran her fingers through his curls.

“The mere fact of ruling over men does not constitute greatness, to lead people you must walk behind them.”

Bilbo hiccupped, “I-I really don’t understand what that means.”

Galadriel laughed and to Bilbo it felt like his heart had lightened at the sound of it. “You will.”

They sat for a moment like that, embracing like old friends, the Lady of Lórien and a hobbit from the Shire, until Bilbo got his tears under control and no longer felt like he’d been hit over the head with a log. Out of all his experiences tonight, he had not expected talking to the Lady would be the one thing to upset him the most, but then again, the whole night had not turned out like he’d expected. He’d only been anticipating a nice dinner with Thorin, maybe a few tears with the reveal of his poem and Frerin’s letter at most, then a long evening snuggling together in front of the fire before he headed back to the Shire. There was no way Bilbo could have predicted how the day had really planned out.  

“Take heart,” Galadriel said, pulling back to smile down at him. “If not for your influence, Erebor’s potential would never be met and Thorin Oakenshield would never know the true compassion of his heart.”

“You do not give Thorin enough credit,” Bilbo replied, scrubbing at his cheeks with the palm of his hand. “He is far wiser and far nobler than many acknowledge. He would be a great ruler on his own.”

Galadriel stood, her long white dress shimmering in the firelight like fish scales in the sunlight. She turned and looked back at him. “I did not say he wouldn’t, but he will be a far greater ruler than any of his forefathers with you by his side, Bilbo Baggins. Be brave, and have courage in yourself.”

Blushing, the hobbit could do little more than nod his thanks. There would be no use refuting the Lady her claim, but he wished desperately that her words were true. He would try his best to keep the kingdom of Erebor as happy as he would its King, however only time would give him the true courage he needed to be confident in his abilities.

As if summoned, Thranduil and Thorin both stormed back into the room, the two arguing over who the hobbits of the Shire liked more.

“– held the child, unlike you who’s probably never seen one.”

Thorin sputtered, ears red with rage. “I have too! I went to his relatives’ wedding!”

Thranduil sniffed and turned his nose up. “Well, I actually _held_ one. The babe even spit up on me.”

“Babe? What babe?” Thorin actually looked affronted that a baby hobbit hadn’t spit up all down his shoulder like it had for the elf King. Bilbo sighed, knowing Thorin wouldn’t leave the matter until he had a chance to play with Myrtle himself, that way, if the conversation ever came up again, Thorin would have something to compare to Thranduil’s experience.

“My Lady,” Thorin bowed respectfully towards Galadriel, raising an eyebrow in surprise when he caught sight of Bilbo’s distraught expression. “Bilbo?”

“I’m fine,” the hobbit waved him off, “I’ll explain later.”

There was a flurry of commotion as the wizards and Thráin joined them. Thranduil promised over Thorin’s head to see Bilbo tomorrow, offering the hobbit a place of honor sitting with their delegation, which Bilbo politely refused. Thorin growled, but didn’t say anything as he got distracted by his father trying to proposition Galadriel into staying with him for the night and stormed over to stop Thráin from causing a diplomatic situation. Saruman was arguing with Gandalf about the effects of mushrooms and Radagast appeared to be conversing with a field mouse he found in his pocket, so they almost entirely forgot about Bilbo until the hobbit interrupted them. Though his head felt like cotton, Bilbo made his farewells to everyone in the room before rushing into the hallway and back to Thorin’s room.

Bilbo was panting by the time the door slammed heavily behind him, leaning back and banging his head against the heavy wood. Nori, who Bilbo hadn’t known would be waiting for them, jumped in surprise that he hadn’t heard the hobbit entering.

“Bilbo?”

“Nori!”

“Are you alright, lad?” Nori held his hands out, as if to show the hobbit he was unarmed. “Did something happen? Where’s Thorin?”

“He’s– He’s back there,” Bilbo jerked his thumb towards the door. “His father…”

Nori’s face blanched with horror. “Is everything alright? What happened?”

“No, no, no,” Bilbo tried to reassure him. “Nothing bad, I just got a bit overwhelmed and had to leave. I’m sure Thorin will join us soon, he’s just saying his goodbyes to Thráin’s guests.”

“Oh,” Nori sighed, looking very relieved at the hobbit’s news. He was no longer in a disguise and his hair was back into is usual three point style. His clothes were those Bilbo was used to seeing him in instead of the servant’s garb. Wondering if it would be worth the hassle of asking, Bilbo figured he’d wait until Thorin returned before inquiring about the warning Nori gave him earlier. It still tugged at his mind and the dwarf’s behavior was very suspicious.  

Abruptly, Bilbo was shoved forward when Thorin pushed through the door, knocking the hobbit over onto his knees and causing Nori to trip over a stool when he jumped forward to catch him. They fumbled for a moment, Bilbo slapping Nori in the nose and getting elbowed in return, until finally their limbs were situated and Thorin could help them both up without falling over himself.

“Bilbo? Nori? What is going on? Why did you leave so quickly?” Thorin asked, looking confused.

The hobbit rubbed at his bruises. “Sorry, I j-just, I dunno, a bit overwhelmed, I suppose?”

“Did the elf say something to you to upset you?” Thorin growled, pulling Bilbo close. His hands slipped under Bilbo’s jacket, settling low on the hobbit’s back and rubbing soothing circles there.

“Of course not,” Bilbo said, voice muffled against Thorin shoulder. “She was very kind to me.”

Thorin pressed a kiss against the hobbit’s temple, arms going around him in a tight hug. “I’m sorry about tonight. Things did not turn out how I had planned. It should have been an enjoyable day, for both of us, but I have ruined it in my rush to introduce you to my father.”

“It’s fine,” Bilbo muttered. He loved the smell of Thorin and couldn’t help nuzzling into the dwarf’s neck, closing his eyes in blissful pleasure as the dwarf’s scent enveloped him. After Galadriel’s words, there was no other place he wanted to be than in his lover’s arms. He was happy to know that his love was returned, that the dwarf felt as deeply for Bilbo as he felt for Thorin, but there was still that niggling part of him somewhere deep in his mind that worried. That this all might just be a fanciful dream that he would awaken from when the clock stuck midnight, and all their happy moment would be lost in the reality of their situation. 

Nori cleared his throat loudly, jerking Bilbo from his thoughts and bringing him back to the present.

“Yes, well, sorry to interrupt and all, but I need to escort Bilbo back to the Shire if he doesn’t want that horrible beast to hunt you down and maul you, Master Thorin. He’s already slipped past the guards twice before Gimli and that elf Prince waylaid him. I imagine it won’t be pretty the next time he gets through.”

Bilbo had almost completely forgotten about Master Pumpernickel and the cat’s dedication to his duty. It had probably caused a lot of havoc with the guards trying to keep the creature out. Bilbo should have at least left some sort of message for the cat, letting him know he would be out late and why.

“Oh goodness, you’re right,” Bilbo said, sighing to himself. “I should go before things get worse.”

Thorin seemed very reluctant to let the hobbit go despite the threat. He kissed Bilbo passionately until the hobbit thought his toes would go numb from curling in pleasure, the dwarf’s large hands sliding down to the hobbit’s side and jerking him forward to press their hips together.

“Stay. Let the guards deal with the beast, it’s good for them.”

“Thorin!” Bilbo squeaked, flushing wildly as his eyes darted to Nori, who watched them awkwardly. “I can’t, it wouldn’t be proper.”

Thorin’s bent his forehead to Bilbo’s, smiling down at the hobbit with utter affection. “What are manners to a dwarf King? Stay, let me turn this night into something more memorable.”

Bilbo swatted at the dwarf’s back, laughing at the downright absurd words spilling from Thorin’s mouth. “It was pretty memorable as it was. Can you imagine the talk around the Shire if I didn’t come home till morning? Not all of them know we’re courting.”

“So,” Thorin said, voice low and rough, sending shivers down Bilbo’s spine. “Let them talk. They are just envious that you are mine now and they can no longer have you to themselves.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo whined, squirming as Thorin pressed kisses along his neck and ear. “I should go.”

Thorin drew away only a little after setting a long, lingering kiss against Bilbo’s lips, his eyes bright with warmth as he watched the hobbit shake himself from the daze his tender regard had caused.       

“Fine, but the dawn cannot come soon enough, when tomorrow I will have you back in my arms,” Thorin whispered, blue-grey eyes staring deeply into Bilbo’s. “I will no doubt stay awake all night thinking of your beauty, yearning for the day when you will call Erebor your home and I can sate my pleasures on more than just your memories.”

“Thorin!” Bilbo whispered loudly, blushing wildly as his hands clenched at Thorin’s chest.

The dwarf grinned roguishly, hips swaying with Bilbo’s as he wrapped his arms around the small hobbit. “Tomorrow I will announce to all our engagement, and it will no longer be improper for you to be seen staying long nights in the Mountain.”  

“Tomorrow you will be King,” Bilbo answered back, scratching his nails through Thorin’s stubble. The dwarf grumbled in delight, his sharp nose nuzzling against Bilbo’s. 

“So I will be,” Thorin purred. “And you will be mine.”

Nori cleared his throat awkwardly, earning a glare from Thorin for disturbing them.

Bilbo sighed and pulled himself away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Thorin nodded, arms dropping heavily to his side.

Bilbo didn’t quite remember Nori escorting him out of Thorin’s room and down the long winding hallways, his mind in a stupor from the loving kiss Thorin had parted on him one last time just as Nori reached for his arm to lead him out of the room. In fact they were nearly out of the Mountain completely when Bilbo startled out of his daze because Nori was hollering at someone ahead of them.

“How _dare_ you!”

“Brother!” Ori squeaked, pulling his lips back from Dwalin’s. It appeared Thorin wasn’t the only one with romantic plans for the evening if the two’s rumpled clothing was anything to go by. Though an alcove in a nearly abandon hallway wasn’t quite what Bilbo would consider romantic by any means.

Nori released Bilbo arm and unsheathed the daggers at his hips, growling something in Khuzdul that had both Dwalin and Ori flushing in the glow of the lanterns.

“Nori!” Ori shouted, sounded scandalized and hiding his face in his hands. Dwalin rolled his eyes and pulled one of the large hammers off his back.

“Duel until first blood?” He asked casually, tossing the bulky weapon from hand to hand.

Nori didn’t look the least impressed. “To the death,” he hissed.

“Brother, no!” Ori shouted, stepping between the two other dwarves. “I’m tired of hiding it. But Dwalin and I, we’re in love. And you can’t kill him because… well, we’re going to be together from now on and that can’t happen if he’s dead.”

“Thanks for the ringing endorsement,” Dwalin grumbled, a little dejected that Ori didn’t think he could beat his brother.

Nori bristled. “Love? You think you are in love? With this… this rukhsul menu!” 

“Oi!” Dwalin shouted, looking completely insulted.

Ori nodded, putting his hands on his hips and standing his ground, protecting Dwalin from his brother. “Yes, now you can accept it or not, but I’m no longer going to let your opinion of Dwalin influence my decision to be with him. I’m not a baby anymore, you can’t protect me from the outside world. I want to be with Dwalin and there’s nothing you can say that will stop me.”

Bilbo blinked in surprised, taken aback by the young dwarf’s conviction. He hadn’t known Ori was so passionate about Dwalin, their adoration of one another always seemed so quiet and simple compared to his own. But a strange daring blossomed in Bilbo’s chest, a sudden inspiration at Ori’s words. He felt his resolve harden and he knew what he had to do.

Nori laughed, a hollow, angry sound. “Really? Does Dori know of your decision?”

“Well,” Ori paused, thrown by his brother’s question. “Not yet.”

“Oh really.” This news appeared to delight Nori, and his teeth stood out in the dark light as he grinned at the other two dwarves. “So you’ve been sneaking around not only my back with Dwalin, but brother’s too? If would be best if you let me have a go at him now then let Dori once he learns of you’ve been engaging in such behavior with the Captain of the Guards. At least I will make it quick and painless for him.”

“Right, um,” Bilbo said, a bit startled by how bloodthirsty the orange-haired dwarf became. “I think I might have forgotten something, oh … my robe, back in Thorin’s room. I’ll be just a moment and then I’ll head back home on my own.”

“Right, right,” Nori nodded, his focus completely on Dwalin. If it was entirely possible to burn someone alive by glaring at them, Nori was giving it a very valiant attempt. “I just have to dispatch this… pest, and I catch up to you.”

“Please, don’t bother,” Bilbo said, edging back from the group. Ori sent the hobbit a pleading look, but was soon distracted by Dwalin trying to push him back out of the way. Dwalin and Nori rounded each other, clearing out a place right there in the hall to fight.

“Get your filthy paws off my brother,” Nori shouted.

“Your brother likes my filthy paws on him,” Dwalin taunted back.

“Dwalin!” Ori squealed, whapping the larger dwarf over the shoulder.

Their arguing continued as Bilbo shuffled back the way he came, the echo’s of their shouts ringing down the hallway until he turned the last corner and it abruptly cut off. He really hoped things didn’t escalate to the point where someone got hurt, but there really wasn’t much Bilbo could do for Ori or Dwalin in that situation. They really should have known better that to have a moment of passion out in the open like that where anyone could come across them, much less one of Ori’s brothers.

For a second Bilbo stood outside Thorin’s door, wondering if he should knock or just slip inside and surprise him. Then Galadriel’s words came back to him.

“Courage, right,” Bilbo muttered to himself, fixing his jacket and straightening his sleeves. “No time like the present.”

Without pausing to knock, Bilbo pressed forward and opened the door. It squeaked loudly in the deafening quiet of the room, causing Thorin, who’d been relaxing in front of the fire, to reach for his sword.

“Who disturbs– _Bilbo?_ What are you doing back here?”

Bilbo bit his lips, knowing his ears were turning red as he locked the door behind him.

“Bilbo?” Thorin cocked his head to the side, watching the hobbit curiously as he slowly started to unbutton his jacket.

“Right, well, I figured there’s no harm in staying tonight if we’re already officially engaged.” Even from across the room, Bilbo could see Thorin’s throat bob as he swallowed thickly. “We’re just letting everybody else know about it tomorrow.” Bilbo shrugged off his jacket and took a steady step forward. “The others will understand.”

Thorin’s knees trembled and he had to lean against the chair to hold himself up. “Y-you…” Thorin sputtered.

Bilbo peeked up at the dwarf from under his bangs, tucking his braid back behind his ear so he could get the buttons undone from around his collar.   

“This isn’t too forward of me is it? I thought you wanted me to stay?”

“No. I mean – _yes!_ Stay, please.”

Something seemed to surge through Thorin just then and he rushed to pull Bilbo into his arms. He swung the hobbit around in his arms, earning a loud round of nervous giggles from Bilbo as he wrapped his arms around the dwarf’s neck, peppering kisses all over his face.

“Will there be talk in the Shire?”

“Undoubtedly,” Bilbo answered, pressing a quick kiss to Thorin’s cheek. He leaned back to look Thorin in the eyes. “But let them talk. I just want to be with you tonight.”

Thorin growled, hefting Bilbo up against his hips until the hobbit had to wrap his legs around them to hold on. With little effort, the dwarf King carried the hobbit back to his bedroom.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thráin’s mood swings and paranoia are from dementia. He has good and bad days, but he also wasn’t originally the best of fathers to Thorin. I imagine he was really hard on him growing up because he was the heir. Also, can you imagine a sweet and sensitive teen Thorin? I’m sure past battles, growing duties, and the death of his mother and brother really hardened him into who he is now. Hopefully I didn’t make you hate Thráin, that isn’t what I was aiming for.  
> She gets some mention, but Eydis is Thorin’s mother.  
> “To lead people walk behind them.”- Laozi
> 
> Translation: “rukhsul menu”-son of a orc, “Khagam”- father


	35. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin spend a night of passion together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT CHAPTER! BEWARE!

***

 

Bilbo let out a puff of air as he was practically tossed back onto the downy comforter. “Oof! Easy,” he reminded Thorin, scrabbling back against the headboard.

“ _Easy_?” Thorin growled, yanking his overcoat off and tossing is carelessly aside. “Bilbo, my treasure, need I remind you that you are about to lie with a dwarf. A dwarf who has waited what has felt like an age past to press his skin alongside your own. ‘Easy’ might not be possible for me at this venture.”

Bilbo flushed, his heart beating so fast he feared he might faint. Thorin’s words reignited his passions and he tried to keep his breathing steady as he watched the dwarf tear at his clothes, snarling when his fingers fumbled at the tiny buttons of his waistcoat. “Here, let me,” Bilbo said, reaching up brazenly to tug Thorin between his legs on the bed.

Thorin sighed, like Bilbo’s assistance was a sweet relief. He crawled up the bed and into the hobbit’s arms, his hand falling to Bilbo’s thighs and squeezing the muscles there. “You are so calm, while I tremble like a leaf.”

Bilbo scoffed, keeping his focus on the buttons of Thorin’s waistcoat. “No I’m not.” He knew if he glanced towards the dwarf’s face he’d break, whatever composure he’d built up would be drowned in the storm of emotions growing inside him. A fire was raging inside him and he felt that only the tiniest thread of self-control held him back from unleashing it upon Thorin. He kept his concentration on the buttons, performing the routine task like he could almost imagine it was tedious affair if he didn’t think of what prize lay underneath the clothing.

“Have you done this before,” Thorin asked, his large hands rubbing up and down the hobbit’s legs. The hair around Bilbo’s ankles stood on end, as if in anticipation of what was to come. He couldn’t wait to have his skin next to Thorin’s.

“Undressing you?” Bilbo asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Thorin snorted, his hands moving up to the hobbit’s hips and squeezing. “No. This, what we are about to do.”

Bilbo slipped the last button through its hole and helped slide the clothing from Thorin’s shoulder. “Does it matter if I have?”

It took an uncomfortably long moment for the dwarf to answer. During that time, Bilbo worried if it was truly important for him to have come to Thorin’s bed a virgin. It had never really been a condition for newlywed hobbits to be untouched, but Bilbo had read in his storybooks that human royalty sometimes had to be virginal to successfully legitimize a union with another kingdom. He was suddenly terrified that the same held true for dwarves. With Thorin being the royal heir, there might be certain expectations he had for his lover that Bilbo would be unable to fulfill.

“I--I’ve done _some_ things,” Bilbo confessed, looking down at the quilt design on Thorin’s bed. “I mean, um, I’m not totally inexperienced. I fumbled around in my youth like many hobbits have. It is not considered something bad in the Shire, though it’s better if one tries not to put themselves into a _situation_ before marriage. I’m sorry if you--”

“Bilbo,” Thorin interrupted, tugging the hobbit’s chin up. “Do not apologize to me for anything you have done in the past. It does not matter if you come to me as untouched as the snow at the top of Erebor’s summit or as trained in the arts of fucking as the famed whores of Dale--”

“Thorin!” Bilbo yelped, aghast at the dwarf’s language.

Thorin wiggled his eyebrows before he continued, “Though I admit being through such training would not in any way make you less desirable to me, in fact I might consider myself blessed greatly by Mahal to earn such a skilled lover. I have heard there is this technique they can do with their tongue that can make the hair grow on your--”

Reaching behind him, Bilbo snagged one of the pillows propped against the headboard and swung it at Thorin’s head. “Stop it! You’re only making me feel worse!”

Laughing, Thorin rolled with the gentle hit, falling to his side next to the hobbit. The dwarf’s hair fanned out around him like a dark halo, bringing out the bright blue tones of his eyes and the pink of his cheeks as he practically giggled at Bilbo. Whatever tension in the room there had been a moment ago vanished.

“Why do my words make you feel worse, ghivashel?”

“I do not know what you want from me,” Bilbo muttered, playing with a loose thread on the pillow and feeling silly. He was usually so confident in these sorts of things, but with Thorin it was different. “Do you want a lover more experienced or someone who has none? I’m not sure if I can please you now.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said softly, his laughter subsiding. He curled a hand around Bilbo’s wrists and tugging him down. “ _You_ please me, no matter what. Just be yourself that is all I ask. I do not care who you have laid with before we were acquainted, it would be hypocritical of me to hold you to such standards. Would you think ill of me for groping you like an untested lad, though I am versed in pleasuring both men and women? ”

“But…” Bilbo trailed off, leaning into Thorin’s warmth as he pulled him into his embrace. His heart skipped as Thorin leaned forward without compunction and kissed him. Bilbo’s breath caught in his chest and he slowly blinked, his eyes meeting Thorin’s and seeing the honesty there. “O-okay, I understand.”

The dwarf purred with satisfaction, carding a hand over Bilbo’s forehead and through his hair. “We will learn how to pleasure each other. I only asked the question so I could gauge how to continue this first time between us. I worry that I might be too rough, and if you were new to this, I feared I would run you off by how eager I will be.”

“Oh!” Bilbo gasped, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks again. “Oh, um, no, that’s alright. I don’t mind you being….eager. I rather like the sound of that.”

Thorin smiled, the tense lines around his eyes softening. “Good.”

The moment stretched for what felt like an eternity as Bilbo and Thorin just stared at each other, the dwarf grinning goofily and the hobbit flushing in joy. Bilbo’s heart eases with happiness at finding that they are one the same page in this regard. Bed-sports were awkward enough without the added strain of unreasonable expectations, so Bilbo was happy to see Thorin did not resent him for things he had done in the past.

Bilbo sighed blissfully as the hand trailing through his hair rubbed against the point of his ear. In return, he scratched his short fingernails through the bit of chest hair peeking through the loose white collar of the dwarf’s shirt, earning a groan of gratification. Thorin certainly was hairy compared to a hobbit, but Bilbo found he enjoyed it. The hair was soft, though thinner than the hair on a hobbit’s foot, and it slipping through his fingers easily without getting tangled. He was somewhat mesmerized by it, spending probably an exorbitant amount of time petting it when there should have been other things he could have turned his attention to. It wasn’t until Thorin pulled his hand away and tangled their fingers together, pressing his sweaty palm against Bilbo’s, that his attention was drawn away.

“I’m glad you came back to me,” he revealed, kissing Bilbo’s knuckles.

“Me too,” Bilbo said softly, smiling back at the dwarf. Nori obviously would be too caught up in other things that he probably wouldn’t give a thought to checking on Bilbo’s whereabouts.

Releasing his hand, Thorin rolled over him, his hair falling like a dark curtain around them and casting a dark shadow across Thorin’s face. Cocooned in the dwarf’s arms, Bilbo sighed with contentment.  Closing his eyes, he breathed in the pleasant scent of the dwarf, a mix of sweat, spice, and metal. It was a peculiar scent, somewhat tangy and thick. It lingered on Bilbo’s tongue as he breathed it in, inhaling deeply as if to imprint in on the back of his mind.

“You are lost in thought,” Thorin said, his voice thick. Bilbo opened his eyes to meet the heavy blue-grey gaze of his lover.

“No,” Bilbo replied, moving his arms up around Thorin’s neck. “My thoughts are all on you.” He pulled Thorin down, their lips meeting in a simple kiss that turned into anything but.

Slipping his hands under Thorin’s shirt, Bilbo marveled at the corded muscles on Thorin’s back. He hadn’t even known such a place could be toned. In all his previous dalliances, he had never encountered someone like his dwarf. Hobbits were soft, their middles giving with their comfortable lifestyle, but not Thorin. His arms were firm with power and his thighs thick with strength, there wasn’t any part of him that might lead one to think the dwarf King lived an idle life. There was almost something dangerous and warily exciting to his hobbit sensibilities for Bilbo to enjoy Thorin’s embrace so much. It went against everything he was told he should find attractive in a mate, but he didn’t care.

“Hmm,” Bilbo hummed, mouth smacking wetly against Thorin’s as their tongues danced. The dwarf gave a grunt and fell completely onto him, nearly knocking the breath right out of Bilbo.

“Sorry,” Thorin muttered against plump lips. He tried to lift himself back up onto his elbows without breaking the kiss, but Bilbo reach downward and grabbed two handfuls of dwarfish exterior and yanked him back. “Bilbo,” Thorin grunted, rocking into the soothing petting of the hobbit’s hands.

Heat simmered in Bilbo’s stomach as Thorin’s prominent length rubbed against his inner thigh, a heavy reminder of where this was leading to. Parting his lips, Bilbo rolled his tongue into the dwarf’s mouth, rocking his hips up as the kiss turned bruising. Bilbo wanted desperately to get his hands back on Thorin cock and to watch the dwarf’s expression morph with pleasure as he was brought to release. He wanted to hold that control in his hands as it shattered into a million pieces, to kindle the fire between them into a raging inferno that threatened to burn Erebor around them.

“Mahal,” Thorin cursed, his hands roughly tugging the hobbit’s jacket open to reach skin. His fingertips tracking across Bilbo’s collarbone as his hand moved up to cradle the hobbit’s head, deepening the kiss until they were both nearly dizzy and breathless. 

“Off,” Bilbo gasped, tugging frantically at the thin undershirt and loosened trousers still hiding Thorin’s body from view. “Get it off. I want to see.”

The laugh that bubbled out of Thorin’s chest was booming, as if the dwarf was completely delighted by the hobbit’s fervent orders. “Okay, okay, hold on. Just let me--” Thorin was cut off as Bilbo whipped the dwarf’s shirt over his head, his hair poofing up with static. “Right…” Thorin trailed off, sitting back on his heels so he could work the buckle of his belt.  

Bilbo didn’t even bother sitting up, he quickly worked the buttons and snaps off his own clothing as fast as he could. His coat and shirt came off easily enough with a quick jerk of his belt and he kicked his trousers off without getting tangled up in the sheets. He was completely naked by the time Thorin fell head-first off the bed trying to tug his shoes off. 

“Do you need help,” he asked in amusement, stretching out provocatively as Thorin gaped at him, one of his slippers hanging lax in his hand.

Thorin snorted and shook himself from his stupor. “Hobbits,” he muttered, bending over for his remaining shoe and giving Bilbo quite the view.

Feeling emboldened by Thorin’s stunned expression, Bilbo gave no hesitation about making himself comfortable in the dwarf King’s bed. He stretched and wiggled his toes, extending his body as much as he could to show off his assets. His erection was only half hard, so Bilbo gave it a few good strokes. 

“I should tie you up,” Thorin growled from beside him, tossing his clothing and shoes over his shoulders before crawling back up the bed naked. “Have you strung out like a prize and at the mercy of my whim.”

“Sounds fun,” Bilbo said, smiling mischievously. He only resisted half-heatedly when Thorin dragged his legs open, his large palms caressing under the hobbit’s knees as he heaved the furry appendages up over his shoulder.

Flushed with anticipation, Bilbo nervously placed his hands up behind his head, holding steadfast to the headboard. He felt exposed in this position, completely open to Thorin’s inspection. But Thorin’s expression was slack with wonder, his gaze trailing over Bilbo’s body like he was a precious gem. When Thorin’s gaze traveled down his stomach to his groin, he paused for a long moment to stare. Almost apprehensive about what had caught the dwarf’s attention, Bilbo followed his gaze. There, standing tall and proud between the dwarf’s spread thighs and a inch away from Bilbo’s erection was Thorin’s cock. It already glistened with pre-cum, though neither had touched it yet. 

“Oh,” Bilbo gasped, his skin breaking out in goosebumps. He was rather impressed. It sometimes took him a while to get to that point, even with a bit of fondling, but Thorin looked ready and raring to go. Bilbo wondered if it had been a while for the dwarf also.

“Nervous?” Thorin asked, pulling his gaze away to meet Bilbo’s eyes. He ran his hands soothingly up the hobbit’s legs, massaging the muscles there leisurely as if to reassure him. His gaze flickered back to the hobbit’s cock, but he at least attempted to look Bilbo in the eye when he talked to him. “We can wait if you want.” His eyes were bright, gleaming in the low lantern light of the bedroom. Bilbo gut clenched. He knew Thorin would stop if he asked, though obviously he didn’t want to. That reassurance though only heightened Bilbo’s faith in the dwarf and his breath was practically stolen from his chest. There was nowhere else in Middle-Earth he wanted to be than right here in Thorin’s bed.

“No, no,” Bilbo said quickly, shaking his head and knocking the bead in his hair against his temple. He wasn’t nervous about what they were about to do, he was just taken aback by the sheer size of Thorin. Even half-dressed, he seemed to enclose Bilbo in his arms, and naked now, he seemed almost monstrously large.

His cool eyes tracking up Bilbo’s body, Thorin muttered, “I do not want you to fear me. Especially in this.”

“Mm, no… I don’t fear you.”

“Good.”

Thorin rubbed his jaw against the hobbit’s fur cover ankle, a purr rumbling from his chest like a rather large, content cat. The sensation sent a shiver down Bilbo’s back and his cock twitched, his anxiety pooling into something warmer. There was something so intimate to the gesture, a tenderness that Bilbo had not received from any of his previous partners. In his youth it had been mostly about getting off as quickly as can be. There was very little emotion behind it besides that of lending a friendly hand. His experience with lasses and the few males of the inclination were meager at best, but already his moments with Thorin were starting to overshadow the lingering memories he had. No one had touched him with such loving care or passions as much as Thorin did. 

“Do you have something to slick the way,” Bilbo asked, trembling with anticipation.

Thorin nodded as he reached over to his dresser for a jeweled bottle of oil. Bilbo’s leg fell off his shoulder and around the dwarf’s hip, giving him room to move without squashing the hobbit. Thorin returned with two slick fingers, which immediately were prodded at the hobbit’s tight opening.

“Careful,” Bilbo yelped, flinching away from the cold fingers. “It’s been a while.”

Thorin paused, looking contrite. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Bilbo hiccupped nervously, his arms coming down around Thorin’s neck to pull him back into a kiss. “Gently, please. No use rushing into this if we’re both not going to enjoy ourselves.”

Thorin grumbled good-naturedly as he was distracted by the kisses. His slick fingers trailed up to stroke at the hobbit’s cock instead, spreading the cool oil against his aching erection. Bilbo moaned at the touch, arching into the sensation of Thorin’s large hands cupping him and soothing the burning heat that grew between his legs.  The dwarf chuckled, nibbling down gently on Bilbo’s bottom lip as his hand clenched tightly around him on an upward stroke.

“Ah! That’s--” Bilbo let out a gasp, his legs clenching tightly around Thorin’s hips.

“Forgive me,” Thorin said, pulling back with a wet smack of his lips and not looking sorry at all.

Bilbo tried to glare back, but he was so overwhelmed with desire he could barely manage to squint at the dwarf King. Instead he tugged Thorin’s head back down by his hair, deviating from the planned kiss at the last moment and instead nibbled at the dwarf’s round ear lobe. Thorin groan piteously, slumping down on Bilbo as his one arm trembled to hold him up. The hobbit smirked, lips teasingly brushing along Thorin’s sweaty jaw and neck. He paused for a moment to suck a bruise into the skin right under the dwarf’s chin, where it would be clearly visible tomorrow morning during the ceremony.

“There,” Bilbo said with some satisfaction, his hands caressing down Thorin’s spine affectionately until his fingertips touch the dimples of his backside. The dwarf’s eyes were clenched tightly shut and his teeth gritted like he was in pain. Bilbo continued with a smirk, “Now everyone will know of the scandalous behavior the King was up to.”

Thorin scoffed, his thumb swiping over the head of Bilbo’s cock and eliciting a stuttering mewl in response. “I am obviously not doing something right if you are able to string a sentence together while my hand is around your cock.”

Bilbo laughed, his head thrown back as Thorin’s hand around him tightened. “Sorry, sorry. Do continue on your pursuit to make me speechless.”

“Hobbit,” Thorin growled, taking Bilbo’s teasing as a challenge. He leaned down to kiss at Bilbo’s collarbone, glaring suspiciously up at Bilbo as his wet tongue dragging down the middle of the hobbit’s chest to circle a nipple. Then, he gave one of them a teasing pinch between his teeth. What felt like a lightning bolt of want shot through Bilbo and he tensed in response, his toes flexing at the unexpected sensation. He started to pant, staring wide eyed down at the top of Thorin’s head as the dwarf King went about kissing and tweaking each nipple, testing Bilbo’s reaction. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he watched the hobbit squirm under his administrations.

“You’re sensitive here,” Thorin remarked. The teasing vibration of his voice along with the wet tongue swiping against the nipple combined with the groping had Bilbo arching up and pushing at Thorin’s shoulders as if to get away. Bilbo couldn’t stand it all at once -- it was too much too soon. Maybe he _had_ gone too long without seeking the company of another, but already he could feel his body seizing up, his balls were tightening, as if preparing for orgasm.

“P-please,” Bilbo cried, gasping for air. “Wait, it’s--ah!”

As if sensing the weakness of his prey, Thorin abandoned the hobbit’s poor abused nipple and swooped down between his legs. His hot breath fanned out across Bilbo’s trembling stomach as he placed a kiss right above the hobbit’s pubic hair, his stubble chin bumping against the head of Bilbo’s cock.

“Thorin!” Bilbo hissed, feeling like he was standing at the edge of a cliff and about to tumble over. “Yo-you can’t!”

“I can’t what?” Thorin asked, kissing the skin of Bilbo’s hip softly as if to be deliberately vexing. “I can’t bring my One pleasure? I can’t enjoy making love to you? I can’t have you come in my mouth?”

His cheeks heated, Bilbo shook his head. “I thought you might like to…Um, the oil…” he trailed off, moving his gaze from Thorin’s intent expression to the slick, glistening hand still wrapped around his length. The rest was left unsaid.

“Ah,” Thorin breathed, his thumb pressing at the spot right under the head of Bilbo’s cock. Bilbo whimpered, trying not to concentrate on the sensation. “Next time,” Thorin sighed forlornly before a thought had him perking up. “Do you trust me?”

Bilbo blinked, startled by the unexpected question. “Yes?”

Thorin frowned, looking entirely too adorable for a King laying where he was. “Do you?”

“Of course!” the hobbit exclaimed.

“Good, then you trust me to see to your pleasure?”

“Thorin, what is this about?” Bilbo asked, his mood turning more towards exasperation than passion. This really wasn’t the time for Thorin to ask a ton of questions about Bilbo’s loyalty when his hands were fondling the hobbit like he was. The dwarf had to get his priorities straight.

Thorin sighed, his chest heaving as he shuffled up to his knees. The worst, and probably most unforgivable of it all was that he let go of Bilbo’s erection, his hands slipping away to wipe the excess oil on the sheets. “If you do not believe I can…”

Tossing his hands up in frustration, Bilbo nearly growled. “Oh Eru, fine! I trust you! Do what you want, I’ll just lay back and let you dally away however you like, you infuriating dwarf!”

Finding the hobbit’s irritation amusing, Thorin smiled beautifully back at him. His large hand trailed up Bilbo’s thigh to his hips, clasping gently around the hobbit’s sides. “Thank you. I won’t let you regret giving me your submission.”

“What? My submiss--” Bilbo started to say before Thorin used his considerable strength and flipped the hobbit over onto his belly. His face pressed into the pillows, Bilbo kicked out. He heard Thorin grunt as one of his feet made contact with the dwarf’s abdomen.

“Thorin!” Bilbo came up growling, ready to give the dwarf a piece of his mind. Really, you’d think he would have at least asked before tossing Bilbo around like some sort of doll. It was only the proper thing to do. It might seem sexy and all for Thorin to show off his muscles and strength, but Bilbo certainly didn’t enjoy not being informed of what Thorin planned for him if he was going to toss him about.

 “You bloody idiot, why did you--ah!” Suddenly the air whooshed out of Bilbo as Thorin spread his cheeks and placed his mouth somewhere it ought not to have been. Heat pooled in his belly as Thorin licked across the wrinkled skin there, the tip of his tongue trailing down the crack of his backside across Bilbo’s opening to his balls.

Bilbo choked on a silent scream, shocked and overwhelmed by the sensation. He could hardly keep back the moans that tumbled from between his lips as Thorin lavished him with attention.  No one would ever have dared to do something so… _dirty_ in the Shire. Bilbo whimpered, feeling a bit squeamish about what Thorin was doing, but soon the sensation of Thorin’s tongue licking against his hole had him melting into a puddle of goo, his body relaxing and opening up to Thorin’s ministrations. 

The bed shifted as Thorin reached for something off to the side and then there was a finger slick with oil that was pressing into him. Bilbo was so relaxed by then he hardly noticed the teasing touches at first, his mind was dizzy with a fog of lustful impressions. He was pretty sure a horde of soldiers could storm into the room to arrest him and he wouldn’t be aware of it as long as Thorin kept doing what he was doing.

“O-oh,” Bilbo murmured, biting down on his fist as he canted his hips back, humping backward into the slick slide of Thorin’s finger. The combined attention of Thorin’s mouth and finger had him rocking back and forth, thrusting against the soft bed sheets and smearing pre-cum on his belly. It felt amazing and Bilbo could hardly believe he’d tried to scold Thorin away from doing this.

Thorin’s stubble scratched against the sensitive skin of his cheeks, sending waves of heady sensation up his spine. His tongue wiggled and pressed inside beside his finger. He spent a considerable time there, making lewd noises and doing magnificent things with his lips and tongue. Thorin only pulled back his mouth when he pressed another finger inside the hobbit, his other hand reaching down under Bilbo to tug at his erection.

“Ah, ah,” Bilbo whined, his knees trembling as he tried to hold himself up. Thorin nuzzled his sharp nose against his lower back, crooning softly as if he was trying to gentle a beast. Bilbo fucked himself back onto Thorin’s fingers, his breath catching as he was stretched open. “Thor-Thorin,” he begged, “Please, don’t make me come. I can’t--not without you inside me. I want us, ah… together.”

Thorin groaned like he was in pain, the bed shifting as he moved over the hobbit. Soft lips trailed up his spine until Thorin was breathing heavily against Bilbo’s ear. His two fingers continued to work inside Bilbo, their deep movement made easy by the oil Thorin had used, and his other hand slipped away from Bilbo’s cock to slide up his side and to his chest, tweaking a nipple between forefinger and thumb. Bilbo had to bite his lip painfully, anything to distract him from coming right then and there.

“Bilbo, my treasure,” Thorin’s heated voice murmured against Bilbo’s sweaty skin, “you would allow me this?”

Thorin’s fingers hit that spot inside him that had Bilbo pressing his face into the pillows and moaning loudly, his whole body jerked forward as if shocked by the contact. Thorin moved with him, the dwarf’s hairy chest molding against the hobbit’s back, his thick cock sliding wetly against the back of Bilbo’s thighs.

The anticipation was killing him. Bilbo did not think he could stand another moment of this torturous teasing. “Please,” he whined, feeling tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. “Thorin…I can’t…I need…”

With a grunt from Thorin and a piteous cry from Bilbo, the dwarf withdrew his fingers. The excess Oil trickled down from between the hobbit’s cheeks and dripped from his balls onto the mattress. Thorin had been rather diligent on making sure the process was as painless to Bilbo as it could be, using as much oil as he could to make sure his larger finger slid smoothly inside the hobbit. Maybe a bit too diligent if the shivers racking Bilbo’s body were to say. He felt rung out and they hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet.

“Do you want to...,” Thorin broke off, groaning as Bilbo arched his back and presented himself.

“Like this,” Bilbo whispered, blushing as he peeks at Thorin over his shoulder.

“Mahal, have mercy on me,” the dwarf whimpered, settling his hands on the hobbit’s hip as he sat back. Their heavy breathing filled the room and the sour scent of sex saturated the air. Thorin’s thumb dragged against Bilbo’s hole, pressing inside for a second and tugging him open, leaving Bilbo feeling deliciously exposed as he stared. Bilbo wiggled his behind, urging his dwarf to hurry up.

The first touch of Thorin cock against his entrance had Bilbo moaning against the sheets, sweat trickling down his temple as his sweaty curls stuck to his forehead. Thorin gave a few experimental thrusts against him, rubbing pre-cum along the hobbit’s perineum before he slid up and halfway inside. Bilbo’s breath caught, surprised by the stretch, before he let it out in a loud exhale and tried to relax.

“Megrîfatzu Yaumala.” Thorin’s voice was thick with passion, drunk with desire as he muttered in Khuzdul, rendered to his native language as he slowly rocked forward, sinking deeper and deeper still, until he’s flushed against Bilbo’s backside and completely inside him.

“Oh!” Bilbo felt raw and undone, trembling wildly at the stretch of taking Thorin. He reached deeper than any of Bilbo’s previous conquests, not enough to be painful, but certainly there was a fullness there he’d never felt before.

After giving him a few moments to adjust, Thorin started up a steady push-pull, slowly easing out of Bilbo before gently thrusting forward and sinking back inside. He was tender about it, caring and thoughtful about making sure Bilbo also received pleasure with their congress. He took the time to make sure Bilbo’s erection hadn’t waned and stroked it generously as he steadily fucked into the hobbit, pressing scratchy kissed along Bilbo’s shoulder all the while and whispering sweet words in Khuzdul against his skin.

“Thorin,” Bilbo sighed. The dwarf’s cock head dragged against that tender spot inside him, sending waves of lust through him as his passion built. He was lightheaded, almost overwhelmed by how much he enjoyed Thorin inside him.

The first hard thrust from Thorin had Bilbo’s knees sliding up the bed, his hands scrambling out in front of him to stop his head from colliding with the headboard. He yelped, mostly in surprise of the action, but he wasn’t too ashamed to admit to himself he liked it. He felt his body clench down around Thorin, eager to get that reaction again.

“Fuck--Sorry!” Thorin seethed, pulling Bilbo back by his hips, forgetting for a moment that they were still connected.

“Thorin!” Bilbo yowled, his fingernails digging into the mattress like claws.

Thorin gave a grunt like the air was knocked out of him, his rough hands squeezing down on Bilbo’s side and angling him upward. Somehow, someway, Thorin slid deeper.

“A-ah! Oh, th-that’s…” Bilbo didn’t know how to describe it, the words flittered through his mind like birds in spring, too quick for him to catch and too far out of reach for him to grasp. “…that’s good,” he settled for. And it was good. It was _very_ good.

Things seem to speed up after that. The gentleness was gone and in its place was a vicious torture that seemed almost too good to be true. The dwarf thrusts unrelenting, fucking wildly with abandon, until an ache started to settle in Bilbo’s hips and he was moaning gibberish. White noise filled Bilbo’s ears and the only sensations he could properly process were the sweet fulfillment it gave him as Thorin filled and the slick caress of his cock rubbing between his belly and the bed below. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer and he reached for his cock, giving it a couple of goods strokes as Thorin pounded into him, grinding against his backside.

Bilbo bit his bottom lip, bucking under the dwarf’s weight. “Please,” he begged, tossing his head back as his body tensed. “I’m going to…” His peak pulsed through him with only a small warning. Come soaking the sheets under him. He gasped wildly, his chest tight as he tried to pull cool air into his heated body. Shivering and oversensitive, Bilbo rocked forward on his knees, away from Thorin, and the dwarf’s cock slipping from his body with a lewd, wet sound.

“Fuck,” Thorin cursed, leaning over Bilbo as he finished himself off. Fist tightly around his cock and pumping fast, Bilbo was too bone-weary to do much but blink lazily at the pillow next to his head as Thorin came onto his back, his sticky release smearing across Bilbo’s sweaty skin. Thorin groaned loudly, working the last of his orgasm out of himself with few fevered pulls, his tense muscles relaxing slowly as he spurt the last of his come onto his hobbit.

Whatever was left of Thorin’s stamina eventually ran out and he flopped onto the bed next to Bilbo. He muttered Khuzdul --or what Bilbo thought was Khuzdul-- into the pillows, his limbs spreading out across the bed and taking up as much room on the bed as possible. Bilbo grunted as an arm fell across his shoulder, too relaxed in post-orgasmic bliss to mind much about the dwarf’s overheated skin on his.

With the buzz of their climax still vibrating through them both, they laid there for a long moment just catching their breath as their hearts and bodies settled. Bilbo felt almost like he’d just run from one end of the Shire to the other, his muscles pooled into jelly and his brain clouded in a hazy fog of satisfaction.   

“That was…” the dwarf began, but his words were lost in the pillow as he attempted to smoother himself.

“The word you are looking for better be spectacular.”

Thorin paused for a long moment before he turned to stare at Bilbo with a dopey expression. “That was spectacular, Mister Baggins.”

Bilbo sniffed, shrugging Thorin’s heavy hand off his shoulder so he could flip over. His backside twinged with pain, but it was a pleasant soreness and nothing he would openly complain about. Thorin seemed almost fragile in his current state, and Bilbo wanted to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

“It was spectacular,” he agreed, swiping his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. With Thorin’s come still coating his back and his sweat starting to cool off, a bath was the next order of business. There was no way he’d fall asleep like this, though Thorin didn’t seem to have the same problem if his heavy eyelids were anything to go by. “But no time to dally, up and at ‘em.” Bilbo slapped Thorin’s exposed rump, enjoying for a moment to watch the skin jiggle.

“Why?” Thorin whined, sounding frighteningly like Kili and not moving. Childishly, the dwarf actually burrowed into his bed further, tossing the stained covers over his back and hiding his head under the pillows.

Bilbo stretched, his back popping as he yawned. “I want a bath and I’d like you to join me if it wouldn’t be too much of a bother.”

Thorin waved a hand at him. “I’ll join you in a minute, start without me.”

Bilbo snorted, “I am wondering if the sex was so good I’ve somehow turned you into a halfwit.”  

Thorin tried to scowl at him from under the pillows but he looked much too endearing to pull it off threateningly. “You are not as funny as you think you are.”

“Mmhmm,” Bilbo mused, sliding out of bed. His legs felt wobbling and his body ached in places it hadn’t ached in a long while, but he also felt refreshed and pleased by what had occurred. He hadn’t enjoyed himself like that in a long while. It would be remiss if he ever let himself wait that long again. “Fine, I’m going to have a bath while you recover. When I come out it will be my turn.”

Thorin barely lifted his head up to watch him walk naked out of the bedroom towards his luxurious bathroom. “Your turn for what? Bilbo? …Your turn for what?”

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’m going to go die of embarrassment now.
> 
> There came a moment I almost had Thorin yelling out a dwarvish battle cry as he fucked Bilbo. Very near thing.
> 
> Megrîfatzu Yaumala - “Please” literally: a request to accept with greatest pleasure


	36. Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin awake together, but the day does not end on the same happy note it began on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: frottage and mentions of previous explicit activities

 

****

Bilbo awoke first.

His internal clock told him it was morning, even when the room around them was still dark, and without any windows to let in any natural light, the bed was shrouded in shadows except for the glow from a few, almost exhausted wax candles set about a nearby cabinet.

Bilbo yawned silently as he stretched, wiggling his toes and extending his arms over his head as the soft covers tickled delightfully against his bare skin. He ached from the rather vigorous love making the night before, his body pleasantly sore and relaxed in such new, wondrous ways. It was a delightful feeling to experience, being so wrung out that his whole being felt drained and exhausted to the point he felt like melting into the bedding. He’d slept well last night and Bilbo rather doubted he’d object to similar incident again in the near future. Though it would be quite scandalous to be caught leaving the Mountain so early in the morning, in this case Bilbo thought the whole experience might entirely warrant the reputation it would give him to do it again.

After stretching, Bilbo rolled over towards the warm body beside him. Thorin’s face was slack with sleep, a bit of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth and onto the pillow. The dwarf looked younger; the usual deep furrows on his forehead smoothed out and the stern lines around his mouth soft, his eyelashes curled up where they kissed his rosy cheeks and his red lips were open as he exhaled softly.

Bilbo felt his heart swell with enormous affection for the dwarf, taken aback by how lovely Thorin looked as he peacefully slept. It was so very intimate to see Thorin in such a state, maybe even more intimate than the things they had gotten up to the night before. It was odd, how waking up next to each other was somewhat exceptionally more profound to the hobbit in comparison to their activities last night. That even the naked slide of their bodies against each other wasn’t as intense, hadn’t touched some place deep inside Bilbo, like the simple act of watching Thorin sleep did. 

There was little doubt to Bilbo that he was in love.

Thorin shifted in his slumber, and Bilbo wondered if the dwarf was having a pleasant dream. He certainly hoped so. It only seemed fair after the lovely dreams Thorin had given Bilbo in return.

Bilbo watched the dwarf with hooded eyes as Thorin kicked off the sheets in his sleep, displaying his furred chest down to the tops of his muscled thighs. Bilbo looked openly at the dwarf’s body, taking in all the familiar dips and curves where he’d placed his lips and hands the night before. He blushed as memories came back to him, remembering the lewd noises he’d made as Thorin had taken him, how he’d withered and moaned wantonly as he’d succumbed to the dwarf King’s desires – but it wasn’t that they had only pursued Thorin’s desires, as the King had readily submitted to Bilbo when asked. Bilbo felt a smile twitch at the corner of his lips, remembering the dwarf’s breathy sighs and unabashed whines for more. It had been a completely heady feeling to have such power over the dwarf King, knowing that Thorin’s pleasure had been at Bilbo’s mercy.

As if sensing Bilbo’s thoughts, the dwarf let out a loud snort, nose twitching in his sleep. Bilbo felt a giggle bubble up inside his chest and had to smother it so he wouldn’t wake the dwarf. Still, somehow Thorin must have felt Bilbo’s amusement and he pouted for a moment before he nuzzled into his pillow, arm flopping limply over the hobbit’s hip as he snuggled into his bed.

Smiling to himself, Bilbo reached forward and tucked a loose strand of silver striped hair behind the dwarf’s rounded ear.  The quiet simplicity of the morning was something Bilbo would never have imagined but could no longer live without. Bilbo could see himself waking every morning like this, warm and safe in Thorin’s arms as the dwarf continued to slumber. It was so very tempting to stay in bed with his dwarf for the rest of their days, to make love and cuddle together to their hearts’ content. 

Bilbo let his fingertips wander down Thorin’s jaw to his collarbone, cataloging all the red bruises and love bites he’d left behind, wondering if the dwarf’s wardrobe would sufficiently cover everything for the ceremony. An un-hobbit like possessiveness flared up in him and Bilbo secretly hoped it wouldn’t. He had no qualm about his possession of Thorin being on display for all to see and would readily agree so show off the love bites Thorin had no doubt left behind in return.  

He wiggled forward until he could tuck his body against Thorin’s, laying his head against Thorin’s chest where the dwarf’s heart beat steadily against the hobbit’s ear. He sighed blissfully, petting his fingers through the dwarf’s furry chest hair as he closed his eyes in reflection. He wasn’t exactly tired, but he was hard pressed to leave their warm nest, the mixed scent of their lovemaking permeating the room along with the stale air that came with living in a Mountain. It would be very easy to drift back off to sleep if Bilbo wasn’t used to waking up so early back in the Shire.

Bilbo dozed while Thorin continued to sleep, soaking up the other’s warmth as they lay together. Eventually Thorin shifted again, breathing deeply as he awoke, yawning widely.

“Why are you awake?” Thorin grumbled, voice rough from sleep. His arms tightened around the hobbit and he arched his back, his bones popping loudly in the silence of the morning. “You should be exhausted after last night. I know I am.”

Bilbo chuckled, flicking the dwarf’s dark nipple in retaliation. “I am, but it is morning and I can’t sleep in like you can apparently.”

Thorin groaned, nuzzling his large nose against Bilbo’s temple. “The bells haven’t even rung. No decent dwarf would awaken before then.”         

“Well I must say,” Bilbo teased, “after last night I’m not sure I would consider you a _decent_ dwarf.”

Bilbo caught sight of the tail end of the dwarf’s smirk that Thorin tried quickly to hide in the pillow before he could see it. “So you say, my treasure.” Thorin’s naked arm rubbed pleasantly against Bilbo’s side as his hands massaged down the hobbit’s back. “But there is something untold about morning people, dwarf or otherwise, who can rise early after a night like last night. You would drain a less sturdier dwarf in your nightly hobbit bed-sports alone, much less you’re early rousing for more.”

“More?” Bilbo squeaked, blushing heavily.

Thorin, though his eyes were still closed in half-sleep, raised an imperious eyebrow. “Don’t think I do not feel you rising against my thigh.”

Bilbo sputtered, “That is just a morning a-affliction. I certainly do not expect you to – um, to uh, sate me again.”

“Hmm,” Thorin hummed, hand skating down Bilbo’s side to squeeze his hindquarters. “I did not say I wouldn’t and I would actually enjoy doing so now that I’ve recovered somewhat. I just expected you to be a bit more… timid in these sorts of things. Who knew hobbits were such wanton creatures. Your race hides your beastly desires quite skillfully behind your rules of manners and decorum.”

“ _Beastly_ ,” Bilbo muttered, rolling his eyes. “Yes, that is what we hobbits are, beastly creatures attempting to overthrow the lot of you by exhausting you all through sex. The others in the Shire will be most displeased that you have figured us out.”

Thorin chuckled, his chest shaking under the hobbit’s hands. “Just as I thought. Tire us out until we are too weary to even fight back. I must admit it’s not a bad way to go. Your stamina is almost dwarf-like.”

“Hah!” Bilbo pushed at Thorin’s chest until the dwarf was lying on his back, his blue-grey eyes finally opening as he watched the hobbit climb over him and settle on his hips. “ _Dwarf-like_. As if a hobbit would _lower_ himself. My stamina is quite hobbit-like, as that is what I am.”

“Now what’s this?” Thorin asked teasingly, large hands settling against Bilbo’s thighs and smiling widely. “Are you calling my character into question?”

“Maybe,” Bilbo said mockingly, wiggling back against Thorin’s growing erection. “Would you like to prove yourself and show this hobbit the fabled dwarf stamina you speak of? I’m not sure I believe these tall tales you are spinning. I seem to recall a certain dwarf whining about exhaustion when I came back from my bath last night.”

Bilbo didn’t feel up to some of the lively things they got to the night before, but there was still plenty to do with each other that they hadn’t tried yet that wasn’t as strenuous. In all truthfulness, he would have been quite content just to sit there and look at Thorin. The dwarf was a pleasing enough sight on his own, pliant and relaxed under Bilbo, looking as mouthwatering as a seven course meal and more appealing than the most appetizing of seedcakes.

“Mmm, you look very well used, my King.”

Bilbo’s comment startled a laugh out of the dwarf, who nearly bucked him from his lap. “Yes, well, you’ve claimed me rather thoroughly I’d say, though you look fairly mauled yourself.” He eyed Bilbo’s neck with delight, his eyes sparkling like vibrant jewels.

Bilbo slapped a hand on his neck, where Thorin had bit him the night before. The memory flashed in his mind, how he’d moaned loudly as he sunk into the tight heat of the dwarf as Thorin’s teeth clenched down on the vulnerable skin between Bilbo’s neck and shoulder, his ragged gasping as his nerves felt overwhelmed by the slide of Thorin’s body against his own, the steady, gentle rhythm he set to have Thorin’s back bowed, thighs trembling around Bilbo’s hips, and fists yanking at the bed sheets until he rung Thorin’s completion from him.   

Bilbo met Thorin’s eyes and grinned wildly despite his blushing.

Growling, Thorin surged forward and rolled them over, hovering over the hobbit as he slipped between Bilbo’s soft thighs. “Minx,” Thorin muttered, leaning down to place his lips to the love bite, kissing it apologetically. “How will I ever run a kingdom now that I have tasted such succulent temptations? There will be anarchy in the Mountain. Others will say you used some bewitching halfling power over me to con your way into my bed.”

Squirming under the dwarf’s ministrations, Bilbo rolled his hips forward until his cock slid against Thorin’s.  Their bodies were still sticky and filthy from the night before, but Bilbo was far too gone to care.

“Don’t call me a Halfling,” Bilbo admonished. “And the only bewitchments us hobbits have are towards the earth and soil, so I rather hope your Kingdom is more level headed-- _Ah!_ ” he broke off with a squeak as Thorin’s hand slipped around his erection, sliding it easily alongside his own. “Oh, Thorin,” he sighed, peppering kisses to what patches of skin were closest and nearly getting a mouthful of chest hair for his efforts. Still he enjoyed whichever parts of Thorin he could touch, delighting at every hitched gasp he could wring from the dwarf.  

Thorin laughed breathlessly, one hand reaching down to pull Bilbo’s thighs up around his hips as he slowly moved their bodies in a familiar pace.  

“That’s nice,” Bilbo muttered, throwing his head back against the pillows as he let Thorin control their speed. Bilbo toes were nearly numb where they were curled up against Thorin’s thighs, trembling with the thrill of impeding gratification as every stroke and slide of their bodies together brought him closer and closer to his peak. He didn’t feel much hesitation to holding it off any longer, despite talks of stamina and such. “That’s very, _very_ nice.”

In retaliation, Thorin bit down on Bilbo’s bottom lip after a brutal kiss, earning a yelp from the hobbit under him. “I was – was rather hoping for more than ‘nice’,” Thorin growled, gritting his teeth as their cockheads bumped wonderfully against each other on the next slide.  

“Ah, I said – hmm, ‘very nice’,” Bilbo gasped. “Take a compliment, Thorin, and stop complaining.”

Thorin buried his face against Bilbo’s neck and laughed loudly against the hobbit’s skin. Bilbo made a couple of noises of distress, dismayed that Thorin had paused things when he was so close to completion. Instead the dwarf lay heavily on him, leaning his whole weight on Bilbo until the smaller hobbit felt squashed. Bilbo had to slap at the dwarf’s back until he fumbled them into a more comfortable position, flopping over on their sides and pressing their noses together. Thorin kissed him sweetly between his snickering.

“Why are you laughing?” Bilbo groused, squeezing Thorin’s side until his nails scratched at the darker skin, leaving red lines in his wake. “You better not be laughing at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Thorin said, his cheeks were flushed and eyes sparkling with wetness from his mirth, looking like a tween overtaken by too much merriment and ale. “Not really. You just, you surprise me and I find I take too much enjoyment out of your company.”

“Well, I was taking some enjoyment out of your company also until you stopped.” The hobbit shot him a contemptuous look, hoping to get him back to what he was doing before, instead of this soppy pawing at him that Thorin was currently doing. Bilbo still craved release, having just been on the precipice when Thorin had started laughing. 

Thorin smothered Bilbo’s frowns with more kisses. “Me too, but my laughter was for other reasons. You cause me great amusement, at the oddest things.”

Unsure if he should be insulted or not, Bilbo pinched at the soft skin at Thorin’s side, watching in quiet amusement as Thorin squirmed around like an earthworm trying to get away but still stay close enough to touch. Bilbo smirked at Thorin’s scowling face, eyes taking in the swell of the dwarf’s lips and the pleasant flush from laughter on his cheeks.

“And apparently at the oddest times,” Bilbo commented distractedly, “you are not being very flattering, my love, so stop being cryptic and tell me directly what amuses you before I take it as an insult. You will not like us hobbits when we feel we have been wronged.”

“Mmm,” Thorin hummed, leaning forward for another kiss and lingering longer and longer as his humor waned into something headier. “Sorry, I just--, nevermind. Ignore me.”

Bilbo let himself be pulled into the kiss as his hands roamed Thorin’s sweat soaked chest. He thumbed at the dwarf’s nipples a few times, knowing how much he himself had enjoyed that before, and marveled at the wide planes of the dwarf’s shoulders. Thorin really was like a work of art. Even someone like Bilbo, who was unused to battles or combat, knew that the dwarf’s strength and physique were impressive. He couldn’t help but admire them, spending a moment to lavish attention on Thorin’s pecks and biceps in the form of nibbling kisses and teasing caresses, making the dwarf tremble under his touch.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said softly, pressing an open mouthed kiss just behind the hobbit’s ear. “Bilbo,” he repeated and then trailed off into broken Khuzdul, with words like, “Ghivashel… Âzyung… Sankurdu.”

They started moving once more against each other as their passion rose. Bilbo’s hand twining with Thorin’s as they circled their cocks, pulling at them together in a steady rhythm. Bilbo felt something bubble in his chest, warm and joyous at the ability to be able to do this with Thorin. The dwarf’s expression was beautiful and desperate as he sped up their hands, sighing and groaning blissfully against Bilbo’s lips the closer he came to coming.

“Oh,” Bilbo exhaled noisily, tilting his head to the side as he gasped for air. “Oh, Thorin. Please…”     

“Ukhjimâ,” Thorin said, licking down the hobbit’s neck to his collarbone. “Malel, Ghivashel.”

Bilbo laughed breathlessly, “I don’t kno-- oh! I don’t kn-know what you are saying.”

Thorin grinned against his skin, but didn’t stop pressing kisses down Bilbo’s chest until he got to the hobbit’s nipple, which he pressed the flat of his tongue against and suckled until Bilbo was mewling loudly. The hobbit trembled, savoring the hot feeling of Thorin’s thick length next to his own as they rubbed against each other, knees knocking together gracelessly as their pleasure continued to climb.

“Thorin!” Bilbo yelled, reaching his peak and spending himself in Thorin’s hand. The dwarf glanced down and groaned, like the vision of getting Bilbo off was as titillating to him as his hand continuing to slide through the mess Bilbo had made.

“Ha,” Thorin laughed brokenly. “You… you are so beautiful.”

Bilbo groaned, feeling a mix of satisfaction and exasperation as he tried to relish the peak of orgasm through Thorin’s commentary. Then suddenly, Thorin moved them, Bilbo limp under his administrations as the dwarf pressed him flat into the bed, pushing his cock into the crease between Bilbo’s hip and thigh. He nuzzled into the hair at Bilbo’s temple, nibbling at the hobbit’s ear and rolling his hips against Bilbo stomach.

With Thorin over him and between his legs, Bilbo could enjoy watching the dwarf labor to reach climax. The hitched breathing of the King as he thrust against Bilbo, working himself furiously faster until finally he spilled himself, coming all over Bilbo’s belly and thighs.

Panting, Thorin hung his head, his long hair cascading over his shoulders and tickling the hobbit’s bare skin. He seemed completely depleted of energy, barely able to hold himself up over Bilbo as he slowly came down from his orgasm. Thorin’s arms shook wildly and Bilbo carefully helped him lay down on the mattress beside him, watching in amusement as the dwarf valiantly tried to catch his breath.

“Mmm,” Bilbo hummed, stretching again as his body buzzed pleasantly. “Not as young as I used to be, but that will do.”

Thorin groaned into the pillow, nearly smothering himself with his reluctance to move. Thorin seemed to have a propensity to passing out after reaching completion.

“Maybe we can have one more round in the bath?” Bilbo teased, sitting up and looking at the sticky filth all over his body. “I rather think you owe it to me after the mess you made.”

“You bathed last night!”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Yes, and I am dirty again.”

Thorin huffed, glaring at Bilbo through his mess of hair. “Hobbits.”

Leaning over he tucked Thorin’s hair back behind an ear and placed a kiss gently on Thorin’s cheek. “Yes dear, but I am your hobbit.”

Thorin grinned softly back.

 

***

 

Bilbo would assume that Thorin was attempting to help him into his robe, the same robe he’d brought with him last night, but the dwarf’s groping was sort of hindering any dressing that might be going on. His hands lingered on Bilbo’s newly washed skin, caressing a hip bone or curling a finger through the bit of blond hair on the hobbit’s pelvis, keeping Bilbo from tying his robe close as he explored. It was like Thorin hadn’t just spent the whole night and most of the morning acquainting himself with Bilbo’s body. By now, even the hobbit was feeling exhausted enough he almost growled at the touch.  

“Stop it,” Bilbo swatted at him, ignoring the King’s pout as he quickly knotted his robe. “The bells rung half an hour ago. I’m surprised no one’s come searching for you since then and I’d rather not give the first person to walk through those doors a show.”

Thorin shrugged, unabashed at his own nakedness in the bathroom. “I’m King. I get up when I want.”

“Ha,” Bilbo laughed, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Then I supposed this whole coronation nonsense is just that – nonsense – if you are not worried about preparing for it. I’ll just spend the day in my garden, since nothing important is going on.”

Thorin scowled, wringing his hair of any access water. “You better be there or I will make you regret it.”

“Oh?” Bilbo leaned against the bathroom cabinet, admiring the reflection of Thorin’s backside in the mirror. “What are you going to do to me? Spank me?”

A wicked grin broke across Thorin’s face, “Maybe.”

Bilbo hummed, smiling mischievously at the dwarf as their eyes met. There was something about Thorin now, a deeper impression to his character that hadn’t been there before. The dwarf looked sprightlier, almost glowing with energy from every pore. He seemed content within his own body, like something in him had settled and he’d found his footing. As steady as the Mountain he ruled. It was a good look, Bilbo thought, hoping it had something to do with him.

“Do you want me to help you braid your hair?” Bilbo asked, watching shamelessly as Thorin bent over to put on his trousers.

“If you don’t mind,” the dwarf blushed, peeking up at the hobbit. Bilbo thought it confoundedly adorable that braiding ones hair seemed to be more embarrassing to the dwarf than what they’d gotten up to not a few moments ago in the bath. There had been tongues in places no tongue had been before and yet the idea of Bilbo running a comb through the dwarf’s hair made Thorin blush like a tween. It was no wonder hobbits thought dwarves were such peculiar creatures.

Once at least partially dressed, Thorin led them out to the living room and in front of the fire. He kneeled down on a mound of pillows and urged Bilbo to sit on the couch behind him. The hobbit was a bit curious about all the provision Thorin had brought with him, making sure everything was perfect and that Bilbo could reach them, and then finally, Thorin pulled out a familiar comb from the pile of belongings. He presented it like one might a precious trinket, unwrapping it from a silken clothe and delicately handing it over.

“Oh!” Bilbo said, blinking quickly in surprise as he raised the comb up to the fire light. The carved antler gleamed like new, the engraved eagle’s wings still spread wide in flight. To Bilbo it looked like it hadn’t been used once. “I’d almost forgotten about this.”

Thorin glanced at him over his shoulder. “It is very dear to me. I keep it with me at all times, as a reminder.”         

“A reminder to what?” Bilbo asked, remembering what Thorin had said about the gifting of combs. He still felt very horrible about that and couldn’t believe that Thorin refused to give it back.

The grin the hobbit received made him blush.

“Stop it!”

“What?” Thorin asked, leaning his shoulders back on Bilbo’s knees as Bilbo started to run the comb through his long hair. He added some oil when advised to, watching in fascination as the dwarf’s dark hair shined in the firelight.

Thorin sighed happily, “It’s a good memory. You blushed very prettily when you found out what you had done. Very bold of you, and quite scandalous.”

“Yes, well,” Bilbo huffed, puffing up with injured pride. “If you tell anybody else what I did, you’ll be sleeping on the royal couch for the foreseeable future, my King.”

Thorin threw his head back and laughed, his whole body shaking with it. “Of course, my treasure. None shall know of your indecent behavior.”

Bilbo scowled at the dwarf, but let him have his laugh. He figured if anybody should have the type of day where everything went their way, it should be Thorin. It would be stressful enough once the ceremony began.

Carefully, Bilbo plaited the two side braids Thorin usually wore at his temples. It was a calming activity. Thorin had to show him how to get the beads to stay, but otherwise it was a simple task and easily enjoyed by both. It wasn’t until the hobbit sat back to admire his work that another issue was raised.

Thorin was still twisting the jeweled bead of one braid in his hand, staring at it like it held all the answers to Middle-Earth’s biggest questions. “Do you not want to put in the braid you’ve created? I can understand if you want to wait until after we make the announcement, but I thought with you sporting my braid it should only be fair I wear yours.”   

“Oh. Oh!” Bilbo sat up, shocked by the request. He hadn’t exactly planned out a braid for Thorin yet. It just wasn’t something he was too worried about designing since there were so many other issues to work out when it came to courting a dwarf King. It had seemed like such a simple task that he had left it for later, but now that Bilbo was put on the spot about it he worried that he should not have put more thought into it.

“I wasn’t sure if you had a style already planned for the ceremony picked out,” Bilbo said, looking away quickly unless Thorin saw his deceit. “And I… I don’t have the… bead I m-made for you with me.”

The tension in Thorin’s shoulders appeared to ease at Bilbo’s confession and he smiled softly as he looked back at the hobbit. “I understand. Last night’s activities were not exactly planned by either of us. You could not have known you would be waking in my arms instead of in your bed back in your little hobbit-hole.”

He suddenly gave Bilbo a shrewd look. “Unless you did plan to fall into bed with me? Not that I am complaining. It was a pleasant surprise I very much enjoyed.”

Bilbo gasped, “Of course I didn’t plan to! It’s highly improper for a gentlehobbit such as myself to have such designs on someone if they have not already made an official announcement. You just – you just swept me up in a night of passion after that lovely meal you cooked for me. No hobbit could resist that. Though if Lobelia ever found out she’d never let me live it down. Especially since I teased her so much about getting caught with Otho behind the Brockhouse shed last summer with her skirt around her hips. She kept putting the blame on Otho’s skilled finger and his skills of kneading bread. I thought she was insinuating something else.”  

Thorin turned to lean his arm across Bilbo’s lab, resting his chin against the hobbit’s knee. “You hobbits are such odd creatures.”

Bilbo poked Thorin in the nose and laughed when the dwarf gave him a cross-eyed glare. “Not as odd as dwarves.”

Thorin’s hand slipped up the hobbit’s leg, pushing aside Bilbo’s robe the farther it ascended. The hobbit made a gurgling noise, unsure if he really wanted to pursue where those ministrations would lead if he let Thorin continue, or give his body a moment of respite and push Thorin’s hand away. Thankfully the issue was solved when someone pounded loudly on the door.

“Go away!” Thorin yelled, looking intently at Bilbo’s belt like he could unfasten it with his mind.

“Your M-Majesty,” someone called back, voice barely audible through the door. “Master Heptifili would like a moment of y-your time. Please. The door is locked and he is growing i-impatient.”

Thorin growled but got to his feet, allowing Bilbo to slip away and back into the dwarf’s bedroom to gather his clothes as Thorin stormed over to unlock the door. While Thorin might have no compunction about greeting guests half dressed, Bilbo certainly couldn’t do the same. Thankfully from the raised voices he heard, Bilbo didn’t think Hept knew the hobbit was in the room and Bilbo was able to go about gathering his things without being noticed.

The hobbit eyed the clothing from yesterday with distaste, noting that somehow they must have torn the buttons off the beautiful coat in their haste to get undressed last night. Bilbo figured he would have to find some way to make it up to Master Draupnir, as the dwarf had seemed so proud of his work and would no doubt be upset to learn that Bilbo had damaged them so soon after putting them on. Bilbo made plans to stop by the tailor before leaving the Mountain to pick up his clothes for the ceremony and maybe then he would explain what happened to the current clothes he was wearing.

“She’s what!?” Thorin yelled, his voice echoing like a roar through rooms and startling Bilbo. The hobbit peaked around the wall and watched in aghast as Thorin reached out his hands as if to strangle his brother-in-law.

“You know how the last pregnancy went,” the King growled, lunging towards the other dwarf when he tried to slip away. “She will die and it will be your fault!”   

“She won’t! And it was her decision,” Hept shouted in panic, trying to hide behind a tall silver vase. “You know just as well as I how hard it is to convince her otherwise when she sets her mind to something. This is something she wants! I had no say in it until it was too late.”

“You’ll never have a say in it again once I get a hold of you.” Thorin had just gotten his hands around Hept’s throat when Bilbo stepped out from behind the wall and cleared his throat loudly. Both dwarves froze.

“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed, blinking wildly like he’d failed to remember the hobbit was still in the room. Thorin’s hands tightened around the other dwarf’s neck and if it wasn’t for how pale Hept was, Bilbo almost would have thought the dwarf had forgotten what his hands were doing.

“Mister Baggins? What are you doing here?” Hept rasped, unmindful to the danger he was in.

Ignoring the dwarf’s question, the hobbit tapped his foot against the floor and glared at them both like they were two hobbit youngsters who’d gotten caught in his garden. “What is going on here?”

“Um…”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes at them. “Thorin, please release Master Hept.”

“But--,” the dwarf began.

“So help me,” Bilbo said with waning patience. “You cannot kill your brother-in-law because he got his wife pregnant again. Now release him or I’ll never do that thing you enjoyed last night ever again.”

Thorin yanked his hands back as if he’d been burned while Hept stared at Bilbo like he couldn’t quite understand how a hobbit had gotten into the Mountain much less Thorin’s bedroom.   

“Last night?” Hept gasped, falling back onto a chair and staring wide eyed at Bilbo and Thorin. “Did he… Thorin! How could you!”

Thorin made a face and Bilbo rolled his eyes. “How could he what? He didn’t do anything I didn’t ask him to.”  

Hept’s jaw dropped and it startled Bilbo how much he looked like Fili. “Y-You asked… Eww!”

“Oh please,” Bilbo put his hands on his hips and gave the dwarf the official Baggins’ glare. The same glare Bilbo’s father would give him when the young hobbit would come back into the house with muddy feet after a day of ‘elf hunting’. “We’re grown adults who are engaged. It’s perfectly alright for us to spend a few nights together as long as we’re careful.”

The blond dwarf blanched, looking a bit green around the gills.

“It matters not what Mister Baggins and I do in the privacy of my rooms,” Thorin said, his expression still full of rage. “What matters is that you have impregnated my sister after the doctors had told her she shouldn’t carry again. Does her life mean so little to you?”

Hept jumped to his feet, raising his fists like he was about to strike the dwarf King. “How dare you!”

Thorin stepped forward and pushed Hept’s fist aside, getting right into the other’s face and snarling. “I dare! She is Princess of Erebor, mother to my heir’s and the Princes to my Kingdom, and she is my sister! If you will not take care of her then you do not deserve her!”

“She is my wife!” Hept shouted back, looking pale. Bilbo could not tell if Thorin’s words only enraged the other dwarf or wounded him, either way it was very distressing for the hobbit to watch. “She is my wife,” Hept repeated. “Mother of my children and mother of my heirs! You have no say in this!”

“Stop!” Bilbo shouted, pushing between them and holding them both back at arm’s length. “Stop it right now! This is not the time to have this sort of discussion. Thorin, you shouldn’t accuse Hept of such horrible things. And you! You really picked the wrong time and manner to talk to Thorin about this. Now can we please sit down and take a moment to breathe through your tempers.”

Both dwarves turned their gazes away, like they couldn’t stand the sight of each other. Thorin paced in front of the fireplace and clinched his fist together, muttering in Khuzdul while Hept turned his back on everyone in the room and leaned against the bookshelf silently. Bilbo at least took the moment to catch his breath, feeling like his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. He’d never seen Thorin so angry before, especially towards someone he should consider family.

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” Hept moaned, hiding his face in his hands and shaking his head. “Dis said you would act like this, but I thought you should know. I thought you might be happy. She didn’t even want to tell you until it was too hard to hide her condition.”

“What?” Thorin whirled back around to glare at the other dwarf’s hunched back.

Bilbo snorted. “Hate to break it to you but it was pretty obvious she was pregnant.”

“What?” Both dwarves asked in unison, whirling on Bilbo. The hobbit shrank back, startled by the crazed look on both their faces.

“Um,” Bilbo bit his lips, fussing with the sleeves of his coat so he didn’t have to meet either of their eyes. “Well, it seemed obvious to me.”

Hept opened his mouth as if to say something and then thought better of it. His jaw snapped closed and he cocked his head to the side, looking Bilbo over like he was actually seeing him for the first time.

“And you did not say anything to me?” Thorin asked, brows furrowed and mouth turned down in a deep frown.

“What?” Bilbo asked in confusion. “I didn’t know it was a secret!”

Thorin took a step towards the hobbit and something in his stance, in his manner was so intimidating to Bilbo he shrank back. Thorin looked angered and out of his mind, like he couldn’t believe Bilbo would have betrayed him in such a way. Ordinarily Bilbo wouldn’t think Thorin would strike him, but the demented and distraught expression on his face told a tale of someone close to the edge. Bilbo had seen the same look before, on others who thought they had nothing to lose.

“T-Thorin? I don’t –”

“Leave.”

“But–”

“Have you not betrayed me enough? I said leave!” The dwarf King turned his back on them both, his fist striking out and hitting the wall. There was a loud cracking sound and Bilbo jumped, worried for a moment in his panic that Thorin had hurt himself. It turned out to be the wall instead. The impact of the dwarf’s fist had broken the inlaid molding around the fireplace and cracked the carved stone in three places. Stone crumbled at Thorin’s feet.

“Come,” Hept put his hands on Bilbo’s shoulder and pulled him away. “Let him be.”

“But I don’t–” Bilbo said softly, only fighting the dwarf’s hold on him so he could gather the rest of his things. “Why is he mad at me? It doesn’t…” he trailed off, looking back over his shoulder at Thorin once more before Hept escorted him out of the room.

This wasn’t how he had expected the morning to turn out, especially with how things had been going before Dis’ husband had interrupted them. Bilbo felt like he’d been whiplashed, his stomach turning with nausea at the very idea that Thorin was angry at him.

The blond dwarf gave the hobbit a sympathetic smile as the door closed heavily behind him. “It’s better to leave Thorin by himself when he is in such a mood. He will hate himself later if he found out he’d hurt you somehow.”

Bilbo thought he might be going into some sort of shock. His mind and body completely hollowed out by what had unexpectedly happened. “He has hurt me! He has hurt my feelings and I do not understand why he is taking his anger out on me!”

Hept shrugged, waving away the guards who must have heard the yelling and stationed themselves down the hallway. “It is better you see this now than before it is too late and you are bound to him in matrimony. Thorin is a good dwarf, a great King, but he is not perfect. This will not be the first time he will be angry with you for no reason. Marriage is a partnership filled with the union of giving and receiving love, but there will be battles of the domestic nature and you will be better prepared if you arm yourself in mithril armor and carry a sharp sword. The Durin’s have not so easily shared themselves peacefully with others. They are as stubborn as granite and Mahal have mercy on those of us who fall in love and wish to carve a life with them.”

Bilbo scrubbed at his face with the corners of his coat sleeve, his throat choked up so badly he could hardly talk and his mind still reeling with the dramatic turn of events. He stumbled a few times over his feet, nearly tripping into one of Thorin’s councilmen as they made it down to the main atrium nearby the gates to the Mountain. There were so many people, dwarves, elves, and Men, walking about preparing for the ceremony that they hardly paid the two of them any attention. The fact that a hobbit was standing still among them, bruised and pale wish shock, mattered to them little. They rushed about their day, their gazes slipping right past him, like Bilbo wasn’t even there.

Suddenly, with a desperate need, Bilbo missed the Shire. No one in the Shire would walk right past him without even asking after him if they saw Bilbo in his current state. They’d be up in arms in no time, ready and willing to hunt down Thorin to avenge his honor. As peaceful as a people they were, they didn’t take kindly to others hurting one of their own.

“I need to find Dis,” Hept said, patting Bilbo awkwardly on the back. “There’s a few hours yet before the ceremony and that should be enough time for him to have cooled off. You can find your way back home from here right?”   

Bilbo nodded vacantly.

“Right. Well, sorry I screwed up your morning and all. I just… um, I’ll see you in a few hours?” The dwarf walked backwards, his eyes searching Bilbo’s expression for something. “Yes, well, I think I’ll send someone down later to pick you up, just in case. I’ll have them get your things also, so you just head back home and rest a bit. Take a nap. That always does me some good after a fight with the wife.”

Bilbo watched silently as the dwarf was swallowed up in the crowd, disappearing like a specter into the shadows of the Mountain. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there after, just looking out at the sea of people and not really seeing anything. It wasn’t until someone tapped him lightly on the elbow that Bilbo jerked out of whatever sort of daze he’d gone into.

“Mister Baggins, are you alright?” Loni asked, pulling him out of the middle of the hallway so he wasn’t run over by a delegation of dwarves and Men arguing loudly over mineral rights.

“No,” Bilbo said softly, feeling like he was hanging on to his calm demeanor by one last thread. He didn’t doubt that one more bad thing would set him off and he’d break down into tears. “I don’t think I am.”

 

****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Ghivashel : the treasures of all treasures  
> Âzyung: love  
> Malel: pleasures of all pleasures  
> Sankurdu: true heart  
> Ukhjimâ: greatest gift
> 
> Notes: Yes, Thorin is being very unreasonable. He still has his hair trigger temper that really makes him blow things out of proportion if he thinks he’s been wronged. Obviously Bilbo didn’t know of Dis’ situation, but Thorin’s not in a good place to think clearly at the moment.  
> My reason for the dwarves not being able to tell when someone is pregnant is because they just aren’t used to it and really don’t know the signs to look for, as having children is rare and the pregnant mother is often holed away during the pregnancy to ensure their health. Whereas hobbits encounter pregnancy pretty much daily and are obviously a fertile race. Dwarves pretty much treat pregnant people like glass and sort of freak out a little at every little thing they think might endanger the mother and baby. So it’s a cultural thing they haven’t quite worked out yet again.


	37. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbiton raises a fuss as everyone prepares for the ceremony.

****

Loni escorted Bilbo to Bag End, muttering reassurances the whole way back and holding onto the hobbit’s elbow so he wouldn’t walk off the path and into a ditch.

To Bilbo, it was like he was hearing and seeing things through a long tunnel. He knew that someone was there beside him and talking, he just couldn’t make out what was being said or really focus on them, as other things tumbled through his mind and took up his concentration. He staggered in a daze, his heart furiously working over a decent excuse for Thorin’s furious temper as his mind seethed in irritation at the dwarf’s misplaced anger towards him. Bilbo was a bit flummoxed about how he should feel in regards to the issue, wondering if he should be angry at Thorin for losing his temper once again or understanding that Thorin maybe hadn’t meant to turn his anger on him and had been lashing out irrationally. Dwarves _were_ passionate creatures, especially when it came to family so he could sympathize why Thorin might have been distressed to hear about Dis’ condition. But Bilbo didn’t want to be the sort that excused such behavior Thorin had shown, however understandable it might have been, and swore to himself he’d give the dwarf a stern talking-to.  

Bilbo was just coming to some sort of conclusion on what he’d do once he saw Thorin again when they bumped into a familiar hobbit riding down the lane on her new dapple pony.

“Lobelia?” Bilbo blinked wildly, looking up at the other hobbit sitting primly on her ornamented pony and not quite believing his eyes. He was a bit startled to see that Lobelia had decided to decorate the poor creature, weaving bright pink bows, flowers, and colorful ribbons through its mane and tail. Bilbo was even shocked to see a wreath of roses around the pony’s neck like it had just won a race, and a ruffled gossamer saddle blanket.  He’d thought for sure Otho would have wanted to use the creature for work, but somehow Bilbo just wasn’t surprised Lobelia had other uses for the pony than more practical ones.

“Bilbo!” Lobelia cried out, snapping her umbrella closed and hopping off the saddle to fuss at him. “What happened and where have you been all night? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Oh Eru, you look like you’ve been mauled by some horrid beast!”

“I’m fine,” Bilbo said, swatting Lobelia’s hands away when she started tugging at his jacket, exposing his neck and part of his collarbone. He knew how he must look to the other hobbit and cursed himself for not thinking ahead and directing Loni to take him home the back way. “Stop it. I’m fine.”

The other hobbit gave him a look like she though Bilbo might become hysterical. “Fine? You look anything but ‘fine’. What happened to your clothes and oh – your buttons are torn!”

Bilbo opened his mouth before he even thought about it, “Thorin--”

“Thorin?” Lobelia’s face turned red with fury. “He did this? That–that _blooming_ tomnoddy! How dare he?!”

“Lobelia,” Bilbo said in exasperation, cutting off her rant before it really got started. “You have the wrong idea about this situation.”

“But look at you,” Lobelia gestured at Bilbo’s ripped clothes, tousled hair, and bruised, bitten neck. “Did he– did he force–”

“Thorin did no such thing!” Bilbo groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Whatever you are thinking is wrong. He didn’t lay a hand on me, well, not the sort of hand you’re probably imagining,” Bilbo confessed, figuring some sort of excuse was warranted towards his friend.  She was only asking after his health. “Thorin is not the violent sort.”

Lobelia looked between Bilbo and Loni like she couldn’t quite believe what he was telling her. Loni shrugged at the shrewd look, eyebrows jumping high up on her forehead in confusion. She hadn’t been witness to any of it, only coming across Bilbo in the aftermath and not once receiving an explanation from him on their journey back to Bag End. She’d been kind in that regard, keeping her curiosity to herself for Bilbo’s peace of mind.

“I found him standing at the gate looking like he’d been hit over the head by a falling stone, so I thought it best to help him home before he got hurt.” Loni explained after enduring Lobelia’s long stare a bit too long. “I’m sure there’s a rational explanation for all this.”

The other hobbit snorted in disbelief before turning her stare on Bilbo.

Bilbo patted Loni’s hand graciously and smiled up at her. “Yes, I’m very thankful for your help. Appreciate it, but I can make it the rest of the way from here. Don’t bother with me, I’m fine.”

Both Loni and Lobelia snorted in unison, casting various looks of disbelief between them over the male hobbit’s head. 

“I said I was _fine_.” Bilbo sighed heavily, slumping in defeat. “Can we just … Okay, let’s just get this over with.”

They all shuffled along the main road to Bag End, the pony following obediently behind them. They must have looked like quite a spectacle to the rest of the Shire, who were out in their yards and about preparing for the celebrations. The hobbits scurried about, yelling at their children to stay out of the mud, tossing ribbons and parcels over their fences, the men smoking their pipes as they chatted over what they thought the ceremony would be like. All of them seemed very excited to be invited to the ceremony, though some scoffed aloud at the idea that _dwarves_ knew how to throw a _proper_ party. When they caught sight of Lobelia and Bilbo with a dwarf, they stopped whatever preparations or conversations they were doing or having to stare at them, watching with wide eyes as Bilbo was frog-marched down the lane to Bag End like some sort of prisoner.

“Oh Eru,” Bilbo moaned, looking away quickly to disregard the wagging finger his aunt Donnamira was pointing at him from the doorway of her hobbit-hole. “I’m never going to have a respectable reputation again.”

Loni bumped him lightly with her hip, smiling gently and patting his arm. “Don’t bother with them, Mister Baggins.”

“You don’t understand,” Bilbo gave the dwarf a weighty look. “They’re family. I have no choice but to bother with them.”

“Oh,” Loni said, looking at all the hobbit’s lingering near the road in startled surprise. “Well, um, once you marry the King–”

Lobelia snorted loudly, completely unaware of her pony nipping at the bustle of her skirt.  “ _King_. Ha!”

“What do you have against our King?” Loni bristled, glaring at the other hobbit over Bilbo’s head.

“ _Your_ King,” Lobelia answered primly. “Not _my_ King. And King or not, he should be treating Mister Baggins a lot better than he apparently is. Why, what sort of King dishonors his intended by making him stay the night before they even have a proper engagement announcement – and then he doesn’t even have the gumption to walk him home like a real gentlehobbit would.  I’ve never seen such a thing! It’s quite scandalous! Why, there isn’t a hobbit in all the farthings who would even _think_ to do such a thing to our dear Bilbo Baggins.”

Loni’s cheeks burned red, matching her beautiful red, velvet shawl. “W-well, he’s a King. I’m sure there’s a very good and important reason he couldn’t be here to escort Mister Baggins home.”

“I can’t think of anything that would be more important than taking care of Mister Baggins in his current state,” Lobelia said snidely, ignoring Bilbo’s eye roll.

That comment brought Loni up short. “I… I suppose your right about that,” she conceded, frowning slightly and giving Bilbo a concerned look. Lobelia smiled serenely to herself, knowing she’d won the argument on some scale.

Up ahead, Hamfast and Bell Gamgee were leaning against the fence post when the trio and pony arrived, Bell fretting with her smock and looking ready to burst into tears.

“Master Baggins! Oh goodness, we heard what happened!” The female hobbit cried out, wringing her hands in distress. “Why, that no-good dwarf! To think, after all that time, you trusted him in your home and _this_ is how he treats you?”

“What?” Bilbo asked, blinking wildly and wondering what they were talking about.

“Master Thorin!” Bell said. “We heard what he’s done and it’s just horrible!”

“Oh bother,” Bilbo sighed, looking skyward and wondering to Eru what he’d done to deserve such headache.

“Don’t you worry, Mister Baggins, I’ll march up to the Mountain and give that dwarf a piece of my mind. Teach him never to treat a friend of the Gamgee’s like that.” Hamfast was eyeing his trowel like he was thinking of using it to knock some sense into Thorin. For all the hassle Thorin had unpredictably caused, Bilbo had half a mind to let him.

“Now, Bell Gamgee,” Bilbo began, feeling long suffered by all the commotion this was causing. “This is all a mistake, I assure you.”

The hobbit burst into tears, wailing loudly into her petticoat as her husband put an arm around her.

“P-poor Mis-Mister Baggins! He-he doesn’t even–”

“There, there, love,” Hamfast reassured her, kissing her temple. “We’ll take care of it. You watch Master Baggins for us and I’ll round up the boys.”

Bilbo felt a chill run up his spine and even Loni stood up straight in disbelief. “What? That is just… I mean– how did you even hear about…?”

Hamfast gave his neighbor a pitying look. “Don’t bother your head about it any longer, Master Baggins. Miss Brown has already sent one of her little cousins to tell us all about it. They were here just a few moments before you even crested the hill there and said they heard everything through their hedges. I wouldn’t want you to recount the whole thing over again, so you just let my Bell get you inside and to warming your feet. We have some leftover stew too, so you don’t worry about cooking or whatnot.”

Lobelia hissed at the mention of Lily Brown, her fingers digging into Bilbo’s arm like rose thorns. There was a burst of childish laughter from somewhere up ahead that was quickly smothered by loud shushing. Bilbo, Loni, and Lobelia leaned forward as one to peek around the bend of his house and caught sight of two of Lily Brown’s devious cousins laughing into their fist as they crouched behind a row of petunias.

“Rascals,” Lobelia hissed, narrowing her eyes at the two children, her hands flexing like she wanted to pinch their ears.

Loni made a squeaking noise and nudged Bilbo, nodding behind him. Bilbo followed her instructions and squinted over his shoulder, doing a double take when he saw the troop of hobbits milling about behind the pony and trying unsuccessfully to look like they weren’t all eavesdropping.

He groaned, rubbing his face with his palms and trying to ward off the tears of frustration that were prickling at the corner of his eyes. This was just too much for Bilbo to deal with today.

“Why don’t we all go inside and I’ll explain everything,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder at the lingering crowd. It looked like half the Shire had trailed after them.

Hamfast reluctantly set his garden tools down and Bell dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, nodding in accord and following after Bilbo as he unlocked Bag End. Loni and Lobelia shuffled inside with a host of hobbits following after them, Lobelia elbowing a few relatives out of the way so she could stay close to Bilbo. The crowd of hobbits packed into Bilbo’s halls, talking loudly now to each other in speculation while Bilbo finally sat down in his favorite armchair with a forlorn sigh. He wished dearly for his pipe, knowing a bit of Old Toby would calm his nerves, but his pipe was in his bedroom and he’d have to go through a hoard of Brandybucks to get there. It was better to get this all over with at present then wait till after to have a smoke.

“Now,” Bilbo said loudly, clapping his hands. “Some quiet please! I have an announcement to make!”

The murmur of the crowd died down, Dudo being the exception as he’d taken to loudly despairing about the misfortunes of adventurous hobbits. Bilbo did his best to ignore the other hobbit, only wincing instead of getting angry when Dudo made mention of the predilection of certain members of the Took line.  

“Okay, thank you all.” Bilbo sucked in a large breath, feeling like his heart was about to beat out of his chest as his forehead broke out in a sweat.  He would have definitely liked Thorin to be with him when he made this sort of announcement, but it seemed there were some things that just weren’t meant to be today.

“Now first off, I want to inform everyone that I am now engaged to Thorin Oakenshield, whom most of you met at Lobelia’s wedding.” He paused for a moment to let that sink in before continuing, “Thorin, son of Thrián, is to be crowned King under the Mountain today at dusk.”

The crowd gasped, rolling back on their heels like a tidal wave.

“ _King_?”

“ _Engaged? But I thought--”_

“ _Told you! Now pay up, Peony_!”

“ _That big ugly Mountain, surely not_?”

Bilbo glanced over the crowd, dismayed to see that his announcement had sent the majority of them into arguments amongst themselves and a few looked at him in disbelief. Most of the elderly hobbits nodded to each other and one of Bilbo’s great aunts burst into wailing tears, muttering about how she’d almost given up hope for Bilbo. Loni set a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and squeezed, smiling down at him in reassurance.

“Um, wait, I’m not finished…” Bilbo trailed off, eyes going wide when he saw two hobbits start to shove each other. “Please…”

“Quiet!” Lobelia yelled, jumping onto a table and screeching loudly.

The crowd froze.

Lobelia put her hands on her hips and leveled everyone with a glare. “Mister Baggins hasn’t explained everything yet and just because he went and got himself engaged to a King doesn’t mean he’s exempt from explaining where he was last night.”

Bilbo glared at Lobelia. He had hoped his one announcement would distract everyone from more personal inquires.

“Right,” Bilbo said, flushing wildly. “Okay, um, so I’m engaged to the dwarf King, rather officially in the dwarven way from what I understand.” He twisted Thorin’s ring on his finger, nervous under the impenetrable stare of his relatives and neighbors. Loni gave him a reassuring nod as if to verify his statement. “He’s… Thorin, is going to make the announcement to the whole kingdom tonight after the coronation ceremony. Which you all are invited to of course.”

That news seemed to appease the majority of them and the crowd appeared to relax. Some even started making assumptions that the whole coronation ceremony was just a formality so Thorin could show Bilbo off. While Bilbo in no way thought the same, the suggestion still made him blush. The very idea that Thorin was proud to have Bilbo as his intended and wanted to boast about it to the kingdom was very flattering.

“A bit late to be making announcements after spending a night together,” Donnamira chirped scathingly, pulling the bottom of her skirt from under her husband’s foot. “And don’t you think, young man, that we don’t know about him staying over after Lobelia’s wedding. No one made assumptions because of his intoxicated state and we all figured he’d have a hard time getting anything up, much less anything that would lead to something untoward.”

Bilbo felt like his whole face had caught on fire. “I--I asked him to wait to make the announcement. Last night he cooked me dinner and we discussed it, t-the engagement, and then he introduced me to his father.  He didn’t plan… time just got away from us after that and it was late, so I…. I thought...”

He could not believe he had to explain himself here. It should have been his own business and no one else’s who he spent the night with. Bilbo was a grown adult, not some irresponsible tween just looking for a good time. Not like the majority of them had waited until the wedding night anyhow, so he didn’t get why they were all giving him such judgmental looks. It was completely unfair that they would hold his one indiscretion against him.

Everard Took elbowed the hobbit next to him, the two smirking at each other in delight at Bilbo’s embarrassment. “I say congratulations are in order, Mister Baggins. Must have been some night together? Bet that dwarven strength comes in handy when he tries to hold you up to–” the male hobbit made a thrusting gesture and the women all gasped.

“Evarard!” Aster Cotton shrieked, slapping at the other hobbit until he snorted in laughter. “How dare you say such things!” She turned to address the others, hands on her hips and glowering at the chuckling crowd. “Mister Baggins is a respectable gentlehobbit, I’m sure he did no such thing as you all are suggesting! Besides, this Thorin fellow is a King! He’s probably the most decent dwarf in that Mountain and set Mister Baggins up in a lovely room all by himself.”

Bilbo was sure his skin would never recover its normal coloring. He’d be as red as one of his prized tomatoes for the rest of his life. Fili and Kili would probably laugh themselves sick at the circumstances of this interrogation. Bilbo swore he was never going to let Thorin live this down. If they ever worked through whatever had upset the dwarf _this time_.

“Then explain that red spot on his neck,” Everard pointed out, slicking his grubby finger in Bilbo’s face. Bilbo glared back, knowing Everard had no room to talk considering how he’d gone off with Bofur the night before.

“A– a bug bite?” Aster choked, looking wildly around at the crowd for back up as they started laughing again. Bilbo supposed it was admirable she thought so highly of him and he wished he could do something to reassure her but it was rather blatant that he’d gotten up to no-good yesterday.

Loni’s hand tightened on his shoulder, startling Bilbo as he’d almost forgotten she was there.

“I think there’s been enough questioning,” she said forcefully over the crowd, her voice ringing out like a bell. She glared fiercely at the hobbits until they settled down. “This business is between Mister Baggins and the King, and it should not be questions by the likes of others.”

Jessamine scowled back at the pretty dwarf. “Yeah, and who are you to say so?”

Loni held up better under the scrutiny this time, frowning mulishly at the hobbit lass. “I’m a concerned friend of Mister Baggins and I for one can see this– this interrogation isn’t doing him any good! You should be ashamed of yourselves to come after the future Consort of the King like this. I thought you were his family, not hecklers looking for a good laugh at Mister Baggins' expense.”

The hobbits looked away shamefaced.

“She’s absolutely right!” Lobelia jumped in, pushing some of Bilbo’s relatives back with her umbrella. Bilbo would forgive her anything if she was able to get everyone out of Bag End before the night was through. Some of them looked ready to cling to the walls if they could get a chance to give Bilbo some advice or a piece of their mind. “Give him some air! Give him some air! Otho! Otho, get this crowd out of here!”

A weary “Yes, dear” was heard back near the entrance to Bag End and slowly hobbits poured out of the hobbit-hole as they were ushered outside and into the yard. Bell and Hamfast and a few of Bilbo’s older relatives stuck around, Grandmother Laura Baggins being one of them. She darted quickly forward on her bad legs and kissed Bilbo’s cheeks, whispering that she’d take care of everything and for him not to burden himself about anything else tonight but getting ready.

Bilbo smiled softly up at her. “Thank you.”

“You’ve always been my favorite,” she said back, completely conscious that Lobelia was listening in. “I knew you were destined for great things. Once it all sinks in that you’ve gotten yourself engaged to a King, it won’t matter if the two of you were found rolling naked in the east farthing strawberry patches. They’ll all be proud of you as I am.”

Laughing gently, Bilbo closed his eyes and leaned forward into her embrace. “I hope your right. I do love him, even when he’s cross with me for no reason.”

She scoffed, “Already having a lovers tiff?”

Bilbo enjoyed it when she started running her fingers through his hair. It reminded him of his mother and comforted him at such a confusing time. “Yes. He’s such a temperamental dwarf. He’s like a badger.” Bilbo was sure now there was more than one reason Frerin called his brother that nickname. “A stupid, stubborn badger.”

“I’m sure you’ll work things out,” the older hobbit reassured him, kissing the top of his head gently.  “If not, I’ll get my walking stick and wallop the stubbornness right out of him!”

Pulling back, Bilbo clasped her hands in his and shared one more sincere smile with her. “I believe you. If nothing else, you might be able to help him with the issue that’s got him all bound up in knots. Or you might know who we could talk to if you don’t think you could handle it yourself.”

“Oh?”

Bilbo bit his bottom lip, wondering if he might be speaking out of turn on something that was so obviously sensitive to the royal family. “A midwife–”

“What!” Lobelia squawked, almost throwing herself over Bilbo’s chair and into his lap. “What do you two need a midwife for? It’s been one night, surely it’s too early–”

Bilbo pushed Lobelia back, slapping her hands away as she pawed at his stomach and yelping loudly when her hand landed somewhere delicate. Lobelia yanked herself away and blushed furiously, glancing cautiously over her shoulder to see if Otho had seen.

Straightening his clothes as best as he could manage, Bilbo turned his attention back to his grandmother like nothing had happened, “Of course it’s not for me. His sister–”

Loni gasped. “The Princess is…”

Everyone still milling about the hobbit-hole stared at the dwarf.

“Oh Mahal,” Loni flushed, fretting with her shawl. “That’s… that’s not good. I can see now why his highness might be upset. Understand, I was very young at the time, barely even twenty, so I only remember some of it. My mother told me that the Princess nearly died when she gave birth to the second heir. She was in labor for two days and bled profusely! There was a vigil and everything, no one thought she would make it through until the wizard showed up. It was a blessing that they both survived.”

“Gandalf?” Bilbo asked, listening with growing horror at Loni’s story. “Gandalf helped her?”

Loni bit her plump lips, looking confused. “I’m not sure. He wore grey and I think they called him Tharkûn.”

The hobbits all nodded. “That’s Gandalf all right,” Bilbo’s grandmother answered. “Nosey thing. He comes to the Shire every few years to causes both mischief and miracles wherever he feels like it. I say he had a deft hand in helping Bilbo’s mother woo my son. There’s no other explanation for where those fireworks came from otherwise that night they first went out together.”

“What fireworks?” Bilbo asked, curious despite his worry. “I never heard any stories of fireworks.”

Laura Baggins shook her head and patted Bilbo’s head. “Never mind that. Let us talk about this Princess you are so worried about.”

Bilbo sat back in his chair as his grandmother took the seat across from him, Loni and Lobelia shuffling off somewhere towards the kitchen. Loni’s makeup had started to smear and the hobbit was kind enough to offer her assistance in cleaning up. “Well, I just thought maybe there’s some way you might be able to help her. You’re an experienced midwife, mother used to say there was no one better, and I thought…”

She gave him a pitying look. “I appreciate the praise, but my experience is with hobbits, not dwarves.”

“Oh.” Bilbo’s gut clinched tightly and he thought he’d be sick. He had assumed that there wouldn’t be much of dissimilarity between hobbits and dwarves. Outwardly, from what Bilbo had seen both privately and in public, they looked almost the same except for a few minor differences. In fact most dwarf children looked so much like hobbit children that it would be relatively easy to get them mixed up if one wasn’t paying attention to their feet. Bilbo had hoped it would be the same with babies or birthing, and that there might have been something his grandmother could do to help in some way. She’d helped Flora Diggle birth her triplets a few years back and Laura Baggins was known to be widely experienced with difficult births.

“But,” Laura held up a crooked finger. “I can’t see why I shouldn’t offer any help if I’m able. I’ll head up to the Mountain in a few days, once all this coronation nonsense calms down and the guests leave, and have myself a talk to whichever dwarf is assigned to midwifery for the dear. She’ll be family soon enough and us Bagginses take care of family. Even if they are dwarves.”

Bilbo couldn’t stop the smile from breaking out across his face if he wanted to. “You will? Oh, thank you!”

“Just remember,” she wagged her finger at him. “I might not be able to do anything, so don’t get your hopes to high.”

“I know,” Bilbo nodded, that churning feeling in his stomach calming to something more bearable. “This just...This just eases my conscious some. I sort of could tell she was pregnant, but I didn’t know the circumstances and never mentioned it to Thorin, so when he found out this morning he was really upset. I feel bad for them all, especially since having a baby should be a joyous occasion, and instead they all are worried and angry at each other about it.”

Bilbo glanced over his grandmother shoulder and saw Bell Gamgee shuffling towards them with a bowl of soup. She paused when she caught sight of Laura Baggins, but after Bilbo waved her forward she grew a bit more confident about interrupting them and strode stiffly into the room before plopping the bowl on a table in front of Bilbo.

“Sorry, Mistress Baggins, Mister Baggins,” she bowed gracefully towards the head of the clan. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, just giving Bilbo something to eat. He looks famished and a bit of my mother’s famous stew might do the trick. She always said a full belly could heal any hobbit's broken heart.”

Laura Baggins tapped her nose and shared an amused look with Bilbo. “Thank you dear, it’s good to know my grandson has such good neighbors to take care of him in such a confusing time. Your husband’s very brave to attempt to defend him. It wouldn’t be easy to fight a dwarf, much less a dwarf Prince raised for battle.”

“O-oh?”

“Why yes,” the older hobbit picked at her skirt. “Almost every dwarf is trained in combat. It’s so courageous of your husband to risk his life challenging the King of Erebor to resort Bilbo’s honor. Dwarves take things such as honor and debt very serious. Why, I knew a dwarf back in my own youthful days who tried to challenge my dear Mungo to a duel for my hand. Thankfully, another dwarf stepped in as proxy for Mungo and set things right. I can never remember his name though, but he was a handsome lad for his young age, very skilled with an axe too.”

Bell squeaked, looking frightfully out the window where her husband was conversing with some of the neighbors and gesturing fiercely towards the Mountain.  “Right, right. I suppose I should quickly go and inform him of your thanks.”

The older hobbit smiled charmingly back. “You do that.”

“Ah!” Bilbo surged forward and grabbed Bell’s wrist before she could slip away. “I forgot to mention, please remind them not to accost any dwarves that come over. I have someone from the Mountain bringing my clothes and some accessories for the ceremony.”

Nodding quickly and looking more worried by the minute, Bell quickly hustled outside. Both Bilbo and Laura watched as she practically wrangled her husband off to the side by his ear to give him the message. Hamfast face went pale after a moment and he quickly gestured towards the others to listen to his wife. 

Bilbo wondered how he should feel that his friends and neighbors were so willing to confront the dwarves for him, and then he had a sense of dread how things would have gone _had_ they marched to the Mountain to threaten Thorin. In the dwarf’s present state, it might not have ended very well for the hobbits.

“Charming family,” Laura Baggins said airily.

“They are,” Bilbo agreed as he started to eat, the soup warm and filling as he sat quietly with his grandmother watching and listening to others mill about the house. It was a pleasant sort of quiet, the kind that came with being around comfortable company and knowing he no longer had to explain himself. If there was anyone who wouldn’t judge Bilbo for his indiscretions it would be Laura Baggins, and she would know better than most the sort of things he was going through.  

After breakfast, Laura Baggins left and Bilbo took a quick bath while Lobelia and Loni cooked second breakfast, the hobbit teaching the dwarf some of her family’s recipes like they’d been friends forever. Things had seemed to calm down a bit now that everyone had an explanation of sorts and Bag End was slowly emptying of relatives who’d wanted to stick around and give Bilbo some love advice. They had good intentions, but Bilbo didn’t feel much up to listening to marriage counseling while he still wasn’t sure if Thorin and he were fighting.

 After stepping out of the bathroom, Bilbo set the clothes he’d worn out on the bed for inspection, wincing at the stains and tears all over the beautiful cloth. Every little detail had a memory, a recollection like a physical specter, and Bilbo could practically still feel Thorin’s hands on him, hot and heavy where they hastily tried to divest the hobbit of his clothes. How Thorin had pushed his sleeves up his arm to run his thumb over the spot opposite Bilbo’s elbow, or how the catch at the waist had gotten stuck because Thorin had tugged it too hard and almost ripped it, or even how they giggled against each other’s cheek like tweens at the silliest things.

The ragged clothes reminded Bilbo, somewhat ironically now, how he’d joked with Draupnir about not wanting Thorin to rip the clothes off in a lustful frenzy.

Stuffing a loose button in one of the pockets, the hobbit thought he’d underestimated the dwarf tailor's work. He chuckled to himself, recalling Thorin’s expression when he saw Bilbo in the dwarf clothing, how surprised and happy he’d seemed, and the pleased smile that had lit up his otherwise vexed expression, the pleasure that had curled all down Bilbo’s spine at the delighted kiss he’d received from the dwarf King.

A floodgate of memories crashed over him, Thorin’s touch and his kisses, how he’d pressed his chest against Bilbo’s and how their hearts had beat in tandem. The soft caresses of his hand on nearly every patch of skin he could find, almost worshiping. Bilbo had never felt so thoroughly explored.  Thorin had been a passionate lover, careful when the hobbit had seemed nervous and obsessive about making sure Bilbo was enjoying himself. The dwarf had even marveled at Bilbo’s feet afterwards, a place where few were allowed to touch, running his fingers gently through the hair there and then placing a delicate kiss on each ankle before moving upwards to put his mouth to more lewd uses after Bilbo had cleaned up in the bath. He'd wrung gasps and surprised moans from the hobbit, murmuring against Bilbo’s hip lovely promises and pledges of adoration, swearing to always be true and to love no other.

Bilbo felt his heart ease. The black, shadowy burden that has been weighing him down since Thorin had banished him from the Mountain lifted slowly the more he reminisced of their previous evening together. He wasn’t angry at Thorin for yelling at him anymore, the most he felt now was pity towards the dwarf. Thorin was in pain, and like a wounded animal he’d lashed out at those around him. Bilbo would accept an apology if Thorin made one and put it all behind them.

“Bilbo?” Someone, it sounded like Bell, knocked at his bedroom door. “Everything okay? You’ve been in there a while and someone’s stopped by to drop a package off. Do you want me to leave it here at the door?”

“Please,” Bilbo said, blinking wildly to relieve his dry eyes.

“Okay. If you need any help let me know and I can get Hamfast.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, maybe too gently for her to hear. He quickly folded up the wrinkled, red clothes before anymore memories could catch up to him and stuffed it in his dresser drawer. Bilbo noticed with resigned despair that he’d somehow forgotten the gold belt and it was probably lying somewhere under Thorin’s bed or a nice armchair. Once everything was over and things were back to normal, Bilbo would retrieve it, but until then it was best to leave things be.

In only his night shawl, Bilbo peeked out of his bedroom and hastily grabbed up the package before anyone could see him. He slammed the door closed behind him and leaned heavily against it as he peered down at the box, knowing what was inside it and dreading putting it on.

****

Bilbo stepped into the kitchen and winced when the whole room went silent.

“Oh, Bilbo…” Lobelia sighed, breaking the tension with a nearly silent whisper. “You look…”

“Like a dwarf,” Everard finished for her, stuffing a whole slice of blue cheese in his mouth. “Why’s it so tight around the waist? Your butt looks huge.”

Lobelia whirled on the other hobbit and hit him over the head with a spoon she’d been using to stir something on the stove. “He looks perfectly acceptable to me, you jealous swine!”

“Ow!” Everard yelled, scooting away from the furious hobbit. “I’m not jealous. Otho, control your wife!”

Otho shrugged and sipped at his tea. “You look very nice, Bilbo. I’m sure everyone will think so too.”

Everard looked wildly at the few hobbits remaining in Bag End. “Are you all mad? What sort of hobbit wears gemstones on their collar?”

Bilbo picked at the corner of his sleeves, wondering what they’d say if they knew about the mithril shirt he was wearing under it. “I knew it. It’s way too much.”

“No! No, no, no,” Loni rushed to reassure him. “It’s very lovely and you look wonderful. The King will be so pleased to see you in such an outfit.”

“You think so?” Bilbo peeked at her from under his bangs.

“Yes.” She stated, tipping the hobbit’s chin up and smiling at him. “You look like a proper Consort to a King of Erebor.”

Bilbo felt his cheeks flush and his lips twitch up in a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Why’s the door left open? Just anyone could– Oh Bilbo!” Reginard breathed, stepping into the doorway and pausing to look Bilbo over. “You look so… you look _stunning_.”

“Reg!” Everard squawked, staring up in horror at his elder brother. “What are you doing here?”

The blond hobbit glared back at his brother. “Am I not allowed to visit the Shire every now and then?” Reg sniffed, putting his hands on his hips and rolling his eyes. “Besides, I wanted to walk with Bilbo to the ceremony so I was heading over when I found someone on the way that needed escorting to Bag End.”

Bilbo’s heart leapt and for a moment as he’d thought Thorin had come. The elation he felt plummeted though when instead another dwarf stepped into the room, his sneering revulsion barely hidden behind the pile of packages he was carrying.

“Master Náli,” Bilbo said slowly, barely believing his eyes. “How can I help you this afternoon?”

The dwarf’s eyes flickered down Bilbo’s body, something odd and almost wistful in his eyes. “I’m here with the royal jewels.”

“Yes, the _royal_ jewelry.” Reginard said teasingly, stepping forward and pulling Bilbo into a hug. The other hobbit seemed unaware of the tension in Bilbo’s shoulder, laughing and patting Bilbo’s back like he’d done the hobbit a favor. “Master Náli was kind enough to lend a hand to the unfortunate jeweler’s assistant tasked to bring them to you. The poor dwarf, he had no idea where Bag Shot Row even was. I thought he was going to trip over his feet and send the things into the river with his stumbling about. Thankfully Master Náli was nearby to help and I showed him the way here.”

Náli gave the rest of the room a strained smile. “It’s my pleasure. I’ll even stay to escort you both back to the Mountain. You never know what sort is about waiting these hills to pounce on unsuspecting travelers, and wearing such finery I’m sure Mister Baggins would be an ideal target.”

The hobbits all looked at each other in confusion. “It’s perfectly safe in the Shire,” Hamfast said after a moment, tapping out his pipe. “Why, we leave our doors unlocked at night and nothing's ever happened.”

The look Náli gave the hobbit a look that could have been seen as sympathetic, but Bilbo thought it looked more like condescension. “If only the rest of Erebor could be as safe as the Shire. With all the travelers coming in for the coronation, there have been many reported incidences and you never know what type of people are lurking around. Just yesterday I had the guards’ report that some human thieves from Laketown tried to mug a hobbit heading to the Dale markets.”

Everyone gasped and even Everard started to look distressed.

“That’s strange,” Lobelia furrowed her brow. “I haven’t heard anything about a hobbit being attacked and I’m quite well-informed about any gossip around the Shire.”

“I don’t doubt you are, Ma’am,” Náli said soothingly, setting the packages down on the table. “But I asked everyone to keep it quiet, even the hobbit lad that was attacked. I didn’t want to cause a panic since we haven’t caught the thieves and for all I know they might be gone for good by now. I just worry because I was told they ran this way, but I’m sure there is nothing to worry about. They probably headed towards Mirkwood and the elves have caught them by now.”

Hamfast quickly stood up. “Goodness! I should go lock the doors. Just in case.”

“The shed too!” Bell called out, following her husband. “My great aunt’s dishes are stored in there and I’d be heartbroken if something happened to them!”   

One by one, the other hobbits followed the gardener’s example. Lobelia shooed Otho out, then thought for a moment before proclaiming she had something important to see about. Bilbo was sure she was off to spread the news, which for once might be in everyone’s favor if there really were thieves about.  In the end, only Bilbo, Loni, Reginard, and Náli were left in Bag End.  

“That cleared them out fast,” Loni noted, turning off the stove and wiping her hands on a dishcloth. It turned out she’s been making mulled wine, a specialty of Lobelia’s mother who often got soused on the stuff every winter. She claimed it kept her bones warm in the cold evenings. 

Náli started, whirling in surprise to stare at the other dwarf. Too busy pouring what she’d heated on the stove and into a cup, Loni was unaware of the penetrating look from the older dwarf. Instead, she handed Bilbo the cup before turning around to face Thorin’s councilman.

“And you are?” Náli asked, eyebrow raised as he watched her fuss at Bilbo.

“Loni Ironfist,” the dwarf maiden bowed. “I work in the kitchens with—err, well, when Mister Baggins was on staff we often worked together. I’m an assistant under Mistress Flor.”

“Ironfist,” Náli tugged at his beard. “Your family hails from the Iron Hills?”

“Yes sir,” Loni nodded, taking off the apron she’d worn to cook. “My family’s been in Erebor for the last two generations, but we sometimes travel back north to visit relatives around the holidays. My mother’s a miner down in the gold caverns and my father’s been on King Thráin’s wait staff since he was a boy. I’m afraid I take more after my father when it comes to skills.” She chuckled lightly, “He never had a good head for stone senses like my mother does, but he’s good at almost anything else. He’s taught me everything he knows and I hope one day I can be as good as him and serve under royalty.”

She winked at Bilbo, showing that she was only teasing. Bilbo though thought she was way too good a person to serve anyone, much less _him_ or any type of royalty. He’d rather have her as a friend than a servant.  

“What a sad tale,” Náli said gently, curling the ends of his beard around his finger. “A pretty girl like you with no stone sense. Shame you couldn’t inherit any of your mother skills.”

Loni flushed and her bright smile faltered. The room went quiet and awkward, the two hobbits unsure about what was going on.

“Right,” Reg said slowly, looking back and forth between the dwarves. “How about we get Bilbo fitted up and head back to the Mountain? Might as well get there early and get a good seat.”

“Of course,” Náli said, drawing out his words and smiling widely at them all, his white teeth flashing in the sunlight.

Reginard had Bilbo take a seat in the kitchen with his back to them all. Náli opened every parcel carefully and held out each glittering jewel, listing them loudly and reporting their history as if he was reporting to an auction house. Reginard would take them and place them on Bilbo, Loni standing close to set them right if the hobbit was having trouble getting them to stay and fixing them so they were displayed correctly against the fine cloth of the garment Bilbo wore.

Bilbo felt the weight of every piece, like he was being sucked under a slow rising river, cold and dense as he inaudibly fought against the panic growing up in him. The anklets in particular felt like shackles, holding him down under the pressure of their significance and reminding Bilbo of their importance. His breath started coming out as pants and for a moment white dots danced in his field of vision. Bilbo felt himself tipping forward until Reg pulled him back and set a steadying hand on his shoulders.

“You’ll be fine,” the other hobbit whispered. “Just breathe.”

“Last but not least,” Náli called out, his voice echoing down the hallways of Bag End. “Thorin I’s coronet, worn for the first time at his coronation on the day of Durin by its maker, worn second by Farin at the Council at the Grey Keep, third by Frerin on Yulemath, and now to be placed on the head of the halfling Bilbo Baggins from the Shire for the coronation of Thorin Oakenshield. May it give him a King’s wisdom and a dwarf’s courage for the _long_ days to come.”

It felt like the air had been suck out of the room and Bilbo resolutely stared straight ahead as Reginard took the crown and placed it on Bilbo’s head. Everything was silent, the wind didn’t even beat against his shutter and there wasn’t even a sound from the birds outside chirped a merry tune. It was as if time stood completely still.   

Reg took a step back and Bilbo felt like every bone in his body had turned brittle, like the weight of the crown would shatter him if he so much as moved an inch. He could scarcely breathe he was so petrified.

“Breathe, Bilbo. You must breath.” Loni’s face swam into his vision, her face twisted up in an unpleasant expression.

“I--I don’t think I can,” he answered hesitantly, voice choking as his mouth dried up.

“Get him some more wine!” Reg shouted, pointing Loni towards the pantry as he took up her spot in front of Bilbo. He shook the hobbit by his arms and Bilbo made a wheezing, screeching noise that sounded a lot like Gruffo Boffin attempting to play the violin. “Bilbo, come on. Everything’s okay. I know it seems like a lot right now, but just think of Thorin. Concentrate on Thorin only. Think of him and how happy he’s going to be seeing you standing there with his family in full Consort regalia. Remember how much he loves you and wants you to be with him.”

“Mad,” Bilbo choked out, knowing his eyes were bugged out and he must look a fright. “He’s mad.”

“Mad about you,” Reg said, smiling crookedly at his joke even though no one else laughed.

An irrational anger rose up in Bilbo chest but the weight of what he was doing occupied his wrath from turning on the other hobbit. Bilbo shook his head slowly as Loni thrust a cup of wine into his hands. “No. Thorin’s mad at me.”

“Oh Bilbo, of course he isn’t. It’s just nerves.”

Tears prickled at the corner of Bilbo’s eyes and even Náli started to look concerned for the hobbit.

“What am I going to do?” Bilbo asked hysterically. “I don’t know what I was thinking getting engaged to a King? I love Thorin but this is too much, I can’t do this!”

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a shit for ending this here I know. More mentions of possible Mpreg, but still, there won’t be any in this story.  
> I have no idea how long a dwarf birth would take, but I’m sort of thinking with the rest of my headcanon it might be harder and longer than a human.  
> Stone sense is very important to dwarves. It would probably be like knowing someone in our time who can’t read, so it’s really embarrassing for Loni to have Nali say what he did (where as she mentioned to inform, not insult). Nali basically said, ‘Oh, it’s such a pity you’re so dumb, because you’re really pretty’.


	38. Family Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The villain shows himself and a long forgotten secret is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed!! 
> 
> Warning: non-con touching/bad touch, semi threats of rape/prostitution, and general bad dude violent harm and threats. Nothing explicit, but someone is skeevy towards Bilbo in a very not-nice kind of way.

****

 

“What is wrong with him?” Náli said, staring down in horror at Bilbo as he started to shiver violently.

Reginard wrapped Bilbo’s trembling hands in his, crouching down in front of the other hobbit and trying unsuccessfully to hold Bilbo’s gaze. “Bilbo,” he said, ignoring the older dwarf’s question, “it will be okay. I understand that you are upset, I am here for you. I want you to look at my mouth, watch how I shape my words.”

Bilbo thought his chest was going to implode. His breathing came out in wheezes and it felt like he wasn’t getting enough air to replace what he was losing, his lungs shriveling up inside him like prunes. His eyes teared up and he couldn’t focus on anything, his vision roving from one thing to another without really processing what he was seeing. All he could feel was the fevered beat of his heart in his chest and the echoing pounding it produced in his head. The world tilted and for a long moment the hobbit thought he was going to faint right there on the kitchen floor.

“Bilbo, look at me.” Reginard’s voice broke through the panic slowly encasing him, like a sewing needle piercing through fabric, pulling a string through and leading Bilbo back to where it came from. “Concentrate on my voice. Feel my hands on your arm. Can you sense me squeezing your wrists?”

“I-I…” Bilbo licked his lips, blinking wildly as the other hobbit’s face swam into focus. “Yes. I can--”

“Good. You’re safe here. You’re at home, in Bag End. I want you to take a deep breath in through your nose. You can smell home, you know the scent. You know where you are.”

“This is absurd!” Náli roared, his hooked nose turning red as he towered over them. “He was fine just a minute ago. Why is he acting like this?” The dwarf gestured at Bilbo and the hobbit flinched back, his mind wheeling again at the dwarf’s anger.

Reginard shot Náli a scathing look. “Miss Loni, if you could please escort Master Náli outside for some fresh air, he’s looking a bit peaky. Then, if you’d be a dear and get me a wet towel.”

“Y-yes, of course!” The lass jumped into action, pushing the older dwarf outside quickly before slamming the door on him. There were a clamor of wild knocking afterwards, but Náli did not enter the hobbit-hole without being invited back in. “Will he be okay?” Loni asked, handing Reg the wet cloth and kneeling down beside him to look Bilbo over.

“Yes, yes,” the other hobbit babbled, placing the towel on Bilbo’s neck. “Now Bilbo, I want you to breathe in through your nose and then out through your mouth. Big breaths now, hold it in for a second and then release. That’s good.”

“He…” Bilbo could hardly form the words he wanted to say and instead flapped his hand towards the window where Náli could be seen pacing furiously. “He’s g-going to…”

“He’s gone,” Reginard reassured him, soothing the cloth up Bilbo’s neck to his temple and back again. “Master Náli’s outside. He won’t do anything to you, I promise. He doesn’t understand. But I do.”

“Y-you do?” Bilbo felt the floor under him swing back and stable under his feet, the world tilting back into something he was familiar with. Reginard’s reassurance was a welcoming act compared to Náli’s contempt. To a dwarf, it might be inane to loose composure over a handful of jewels, but to a hobbit it was maybe conceivable why Bilbo was acting like he was. Though Bilbo rarely ever had a panic attack over such silly things like having a crown put on his head, not that he’d ever had worn one before, but the tears still gathered in his eyes nonetheless.

Reginard’s expression went pained before it slowly smoothed out into a soft smile. “Yes. Though I will say that Ginnar is certainly no King, he is a dwarf and I know some of what you might be getting into becoming attached to one.”

Loni made a strangled noise in her throat but didn’t comment otherwise.

Reg laughed to himself, his gaze going unfocused like he was thinking back on fond memories. “It wasn’t always easy. Actually, it was hardly _ever_ easy in the beginning. I admit most of it was probably my fault, but I’d never had much interaction with dwarves before then. There were tons of misunderstandings between us and I hadn’t even known I was being courted until Ginnar was forced to ask if his gifts were not good enough because I hadn’t responded to them. Then of course, he didn’t appreciate hobbit rituals or understand what I was trying to say with my own gifts. There were a few times I’d almost given it up for lost because I was so frustrated with him not understanding the subtle clues I was giving him.”

Bilbo felt his body move forward to better hear Reg as the other hobbit sat back on his heels to tell his tale. Even Loni nestled down to listening, her face turned towards the hobbit as she leaned against Bilbo’s chair. It was almost like they were settling down for a bedtime story before the fire.

“It’s a big transition,” the other hobbit said. “Going from thinking you’ll always be alone and knowing there isn’t a hobbit in the Shire who could hold your heart, and then suddenly some upstart dwarf steps out of the Mountain and into your life and completely takes it over.”

Nodding along in agreement, Bilbo stared wide eyed at his cousin. He was so stunned to find that _someone_ knew exactly what he was going through. Even Thorin, who might possibly be feeling a smidge of what Bilbo was dealing with the quick engagement, didn’t seem to understand the impact everything was having on the hobbit. The dwarf was used to being a King, not knowing he was upending Bilbo’s simple life and putting the hobbit in a situation he never before thought he’d be in. When Bilbo had before imagined his future before Thorin, he’d thought of nice, quiet evenings with his books in Bag End, maybe spoiling a few of his younger cousin, attending family gatherings, and retiring at night alone to his bed. He’d never thought he’d find love, especially not the sort of all-consuming love he now held for Thorin, but he’d been okay with that. Bilbo had even _liked_ the idea of living alone and he had no issue with never getting married, so he was surprised as everyone else then how he seemed to tumble easily into courtship with Thorin, and he never could have imagined the spectacle his life had become. 

“How did you two meet?” Loni asked, when it didn’t look like Reg would continue.

Reg tapped his nose and smiled mischievously. “We first met back over the hills in Tuckborough and it just like every other story you’ve heard. Dwarf meets hobbit, hobbit spurns dwarf, and dwarf somehow seduces hobbit into marrying him. Just a simple story.”

Bilbo snorted, giving Reginard a disbelieving look. “That’s not how I remember it.”

“Your memory’s spotty!”

“You almost drowned!” Bilbo squawked. Half the Shire would back him up on this too, as it had been out in middle of town for everyone to witness. Bilbo hadn’t even seen all of it but he had helped Reginard change out into something warmer afterwards and heard all the scathing remarks about it from the hobbit’s very own mouth. Time had obviously addled Reginard’s mind.

“There was barely three feet of water,” Reginard stated, looking at Loni since Bilbo wasn’t being cooperative. “I can’t swim, but not many hobbits can, you understand. Still, it was very dashing of Gin to hop in after me.”

“Hold on,” Loni held up her hands. “Back up. Start from the very beginning because I’m not getting it. How did you end up in the water if you knew you couldn’t swim?”

“Oh,” Reginard blushed. “Right, sorry. It was just normal day in the Shire and I was heading towards father’s house when a covered wagon carrying some important dwarven official crossed paths with me. Unfortunately, it was on a bridge and the pony bumped into me. I toppled right over into the water while the wagon just kept going.”

“Oh no! Do you know who was in the wagon?” Loni gasped, putting a hand over her mouth in surprise.

“I don’t know. Maybe Thorin?” Reg gave Bilbo a teasing look. “But probably just some high titled dwarf who thought they were too important to stop and help a hobbit. They just kept trotting along like nothing happened. Ginnar though, was riding another pony following the wagon. He was working guard duty and saw the whole thing happen. He hopped right down and abandoned his duty to jump into the river to save me. Carried me out and made sure I hadn’t hurt myself.”

Bilbo nodded. “It was all very dramatic. He carried Reg out like he was a princess. Ginnar looking very dashing and heroic, even with Reg in his arms looking something like a drowned kitten, sputtering water and hissing at him.”

Loni giggled, relaxing against Bilbo’s thigh as Reginard rolled his eyes at them.

“Yes, yes. I know I wasn’t very nice to him at first. I thought it was his wagon that bumped me. Did you know he was almost fired for helping me? He only admitted to it recently. I was so upset when I learned that, but he said it would have been worth it because it gave him a chance to meet me.”

“Aww,” Loni cooed, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

“Gin is so silly,” Reginard said, shaking his head in exasperation of his husband. “So once he made sure I was fine he had to run off and catch up with the wagon. I thought I’d never see him again. But the next day he searched me out and told me he was taking me to the lake to learn how to swim. Wanted me to drop my trousers right there in the doorway and go skinny-dipping with him.”

Bilbo interrupted, “Reg had a head-cold from the icy water though and turned him away. He was very nasty about it too.”

“I was sick, and he just kept coming back after that!” Reginard threw his hands up, as if even now it didn’t make sense to him.  Ginnar, if anything, had appeared to like the abuse Reginard put him through and was charmed by every scathing, sarcastic word out of the hobbits mouth like Reg was singing him praises of dwarvely deeds. “I’ll admit I was awful to him, but you should have heard the ridiculous things he was saying to me when the others weren’t around.”

“You told me he said you were the most attractive thing he’d ever seen with hairy feet. And that the King’s jewel didn’t even compare to your beauty.” Bilbo bit his lip and tried not to giggle, leaning over towards the dwarf maiden to whisper conspiratorially. “This was when Reg was sick and he looked frankly quite awful.”

“Ha! See, lies!” Reginard shouted, blushing under their scrutiny.

“The gifts though,” Bilbo shook his head in exasperation just remembering the awful things Ginnar had tried to give Reg. “The gifts were just horrible. Remember that weird, twisted metal art he gave you for the garden. I never knew what that was for?”

“He said it was a bird feeder.”

“Oh. That’s….nice.”

Reg shrugged. “Dwarves. They don’t know what’s useful for a garden like us hobbits do. Do you recall that silver headdress he made me instead? Supposedly that was a war helmet. Not that I’ll ever get any use out of it.”

Bilbo snickered. He’d remember how the whole family had been forced to smoother their laughter when Ginnar had presented the helmet to Reginard at the Took’s Yule Celebration. The dwarf had been so proud of himself that no one had the heart to say anything but praise for the craftsmanship.

Loni looked between them both, her brows furrowed in confusion. “So how did you get together in the end?”

“A book,” Bilbo answered before the other hobbit could and Reg sputtered in outrage.

“It was a _journal_ , not just any ol’ book! He wrote it himself and he was very sweet about it too. For a dwarf he has very nice handwriting.”

“So he… wrote you… a book?” Loni asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.  She was probably astonished about what it took to apparently seduce a hobbit compared to a dwarf. While gold and jewels could be appreciated, when it came to matters of love, something more heartfelt was needed. Thorin himself had done rather well in that regard, despite his heartfelt gifts being very ostentatious for their purpose.

Reginard shuffled his feet, squirming like a child trying to hide something. “ _Journal_. But yes. Some accounts of his travels and journeys. He wrote extensively after the battle of Khazad-dûm. Said it helped him with his grief. There were maybe some poems too in the newer entries. Maybe. But you can’t tell him I told you! He’d be very cross with me if he knew another dwarf had found out about his secret ‘elfish’ talent, which is just a shame because he can make a lovely verse and he’s very imaginative. He made me this one poem, that I just love, about a butterfly that--”

A loud knocking startled all three of them and Reg’s mouth snapped shut. Loni gave the door a withering glare like she had half a mind to march to it and give Master Náli a piece of her mind for interrupting. Bilbo himself wouldn’t have minded to sit for a little longer and listen to Ginnar’s apparently fascinating poem on butterflies.

“I guess he’s been out there long enough,” Reginard sighed, slowly getting to his feet. “You feeling better Bilbo? I can make him wait a bit longer if you need a moment.”

Bilbo carefully touched the crown on his head, warily correcting it so it didn’t snag the tips of his ears. He did feel better and his heartbeat was back to normal. In fact he thought he might have overreacted now that it was over and done with. He’d known for a long while now that Thorin was going to be King, but for some reason it just hadn’t hit him what that meant until now. He shook his head and ran nervous fingers through his curly hair, cautious not to topple the crown. “No, no, go ahead and let him back in. I’m so sorry I acted like I did. I’m fine now. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’ve had a short courtship compared to mine and the dwarf you are engaged to is about to be crowned a King,” Reginard said, shooing Loni forward to answer the door before the other dwarf broke it down. “I think a bit of a panic was warranted. Eru knows how you haven’t had one before now. I would have been running for Rivendell long before now if it was me.”

The noise at the entrance drew both of their attention and Náli gave the hobbits a scathing look when he was finally let back inside. He tucked something quickly into his pocket, which looked similar to the golden long-pipes that Bilbo had seen a few dwarves around the Mountain smoking with, and patted down his long embroidered coat. Now that Bilbo was really looking, the dwarf was rather dressed up, which shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, but the gown Master Náli had on was probably the most flamboyant set of clothes he’d ever laid eyes on. It was nearly completely gold, from the high collar to the toes of his pointy boots. Yellow gems, copper colored pearls, and amber stones decorated all over the golden cloth, mixed in with black and beige stitching into a beautiful, ornate design, and under that a hard, golden breastplate with a dragon  flying over a single Mountain.  

Sticking his long, hooked nose in the air, Master Náli surveyed Bilbo. “Are you no longer hysterical?”

Bilbo gulped and shook his head. “I’m fine,” he answered vacantly. Even in his lovely blue outfit and jewelry, Bilbo didn’t compare to the grand dwarf in front of him. It made him wonder what Thorin would be dressed in if one of his Councilman wore such an outfit.

Náli’s eyes held at Bilbo’s crown. “Good. We should go before it gets too late. Gather up what you need and I will wait right here. You’ve delayed us enough.”

“Oh!” Bilbo shouted, jumping to his feet. “I can’t forget--I can’t believe I almost forgot to take it with me! I’ll be right back.”

The anklets rung like bells against the hardwood floor with every step Bilbo took as he headed to his bedroom. The trousers were a bit tight, like Everard had mentioned, so bending over was somewhat of a hassle, but Bilbo had to get to the box under the bed. He huffed loudly when he was finally able to retrieve it, setting it on the bed and opening it carefully.

The gemstones designed into the dagger glittered like stars. The pretty blues of the flower motif and the silver set against the light-green stoned handle were very beautiful and probably worth more than what Bilbo paid for it. He still thought Master Jari had outdone himself with the creation of the courting sword. Bilbo flushed with the thought of handing it over to Thorin in front of so many people and cementing their engagement in front of the whole Kingdome.

After making sure the leather cover was secure on the dagger, Bilbo set it down and pulled out the next item in the box. Biting his lips in discomfort, Bilbo despaired at the craftsmanship of the lovespoon. Next to the dagger, a spoon as a courting gift seemed so foolish in comparison.  The childish carving of flowers and Bilbo’s fumbling attempts at dwarf symbols all along the handle were silly compared to the beautiful, smooth lines of silver metal throughout the dagger’s design. In fact the only thing about it Bilbo truly was partial to was the wood. Legolas and Gimli had chosen well, it was sturdy and after being polished with olive oil it had a soft, satiny shine to it. 

Bilbo stared at the spoon, unsure. He had half a mind to leave it behind, but if the other hobbits in attendance noticed he never handed it over, they would throw a fit.

“Mahal’s beard! Durin’s day will be over before you are finished!” Náli yelled, his tone exasperated and angry as it echoed down the hallways.

“Sorry!” Bilbo shouted back, stuffing the spoon into his inner coat pocket and hooking the dagger on his belt. He quickly looked himself over in the mirror and paused, taken aback by what he saw. He looked so…strange. Not quite like a hobbit or a dwarf either, like something in between. His clothes and jewelry were richly crafted of dwarf design, but with his pointed ears and hairy feet it would be easy to tell he was not one of them. His reflection looked almost otherworldly.  Bilbo puffed up his chest and tugged at the collar of his coat as he eyed himself once more before rushing out the door.

Reg grabbed Bilbo’s elbow as they both stepped outside. Bilbo was both excited and nervous now about the ceremony, his stomach rumbled like a swarm of large bees had taken up residence there. The other hobbit gave Bilbo a wide smile and as they stepped out onto the front porch. Bilbo had the sudden urge to hug his cousin fiercely and did so promptly. There was no other way to show how much he appreciated Reginard’s support.

“Thank you,” Bilbo whispered into the hobbit’s ear.

Reginard patted Bilbo’s back. “I know. Everything will be fine, just wait and see. Trust in Thorin, and trust in your heart.”

 Náli was the last to leave Bag End, making sure the backdoor was locked for Bilbo since the hobbit was too busy fussing about everything else. The dwarf swiped his hands on his cloak, like he was dusting away dirt before motioning them forward. “Let’s get going, there isn’t any time to waste.”

Bilbo blushed under the scrutiny of his neighbors and family milling about watching them, most were gapping at Bilbo’s clothes liked they’d never seen anything more ridiculous. Bell leaned out her kitchen window to wave at them and some of the younger hobbits scuttled at their heels, asking question and being somewhat bothersome to the dwarves. Master Náli had to yank his cloak out of a few curious hands or risk tripping over them.

“You getting married Mista’ Baggins?” One of the younger Hornblower boys asked, lisping through his missing two front teeth and staring up in awe at the older hobbit.

“Not yet,” Bilbo smiled, ruffling the little ones curly hair. The boy slumped, like he was disappointed. Bilbo figured the lad probably thought he’d get cake if there was a wedding.

“You’ll save me a seat with you, won’t you, Uncle Bilbo? I want to be close to Miss Tauriel!” Olo piped up from the back of the pack.

“I’m not sure,” Bilbo answered, looking towards Náli for a response. He wasn’t sure if he’d be sitting anywhere around the elves if Thorin had a special spot designated for him. “If you see me before the ceremony, you can come sit with me, but you have to ask your parents first.”

“Aww,” Olo pouted, knowing his mother wouldn’t let him bother Bilbo during such an event. Náli tsked, scrunching his nose up at the children before stomping away to get ahead of them.

The pack of children eventually fettered out as mothers and fathers called them in to get ready. As they passed through Tuckborough, Odo Proudfoot waved heartily at them from his bench, laughing robustly when he saw Bilbo’s outfit.

“Off to get your dwarf I see,” the hobbit snickered, pulling at his own fancy waistcoat. “Show him what he’s been missing out on banishing you from that Mountain of his. He’ll regret it, I promise you. One look at you and he’ll be on his knees begging to take you back. Just don’t give in to him so easily. Make him work for it or he’ll be running roughshod all over you once you’re married.”

“Kings, do not beg,” Náli snorted, trooping on ahead. This comment startled Odo, who stared at the dwarf’s back in confusion.

Bilbo flushed wildly, bowing his head and tucking a loose strand of hair back behind his ear. “Thorin didn’t banish me. It was just a misunderstanding.”

“If you say so,” Odo shrugged, wincing when his wife screeched for him to help her button her dress. He gave the hobbits a weary look, rolling his eyes when Olo zoomed around the corner of their smial with mud stuck to his hair and clothing. “Well, looks like some of us will be getting a quick bath. You get to tell your mother though about your clothes.”

“No…” Olo whined, dancing on his feet around their gate. “She’s going to yell at me.”

“Should have thought of that before you jumped into any mud puddles on the way home.”

“If I take a bath, can I sit with Uncle Bilbo during the corn--um, the party where Mister Thorin is made King?” The child wheedled.

“We’ll see what your mother says,” Odo answered, giving Bilbo a knowing look. “We’ll see you at the ceremony, Bilbo?”

“Yes,” the hobbit nodded, chancing a glance towards Náli. “I don’t mind him sitting with me, but I think it might be somewhere important so just a warning.”

“I’ll behave!” Olo chimed, tugging his dirty clothes off right there in the yard. “Let me take a bath first.”

Reginard laughed as the little hobbit scampered off inside the hobbit-hole. Bilbo and Reginard gave their goodbyes and quickly ran to catch up with Náli and Loni. Loni gave them a strained smile, she seemed very relieved that they hadn’t left her in the other dwarf’s company for too long, and Náli looked ready to explode from keeping his irritation at bay.

As the Mountain loomed ahead, Bilbo felt his stomach sink. Familiar concerns ran around in his head and he had to concentrate on how disappointed Thorin would be if Bilbo wasn’t there. It was about the only thing that helped the hobbit put one foot in front of the other.

Just as he was starting to feel faint with the rising pressure of what he was about to do, the clouds moved out from in front of the sun and bright rays of light shined down on them, setting the grassy knoll around them into a blaze of yellow and glimmering white. It looked for a moment like the whole field was on fire as the autumn vegetation danced in the wind. Even the usually dull mountainside granite sparkled in the light and a warmth infused Bilbo like he’d never felt before except in Thorin’s arms. Some unknown bravery rose up in him and Thorin’s gentle smile flashed in his memory.

Bilbo knew with a sudden clarity what he needed to do.

“You okay?” Reginard asked when he noticed Bilbo’s gait changed. No longer did he shuffled along like he was being dragged to the ceremony, and instead he stood proud and walked confidently forward.

“Yes,” Bilbo nodded, tugging at his sleeves and biting back a smile. “Yes. I think I will be.”

Master Náli planned for them to enter through the West gate, a familiar trail for Bilbo when he worked in the Mountain. It was less crowded than the main gates, which Bilbo could see from the ledge hosted a large gathering of Men and Elves trying to get through. He could even spot the Elvenking and his procession coming up the wide road from Dale, his tall stature and crown making him easy to pinpoint in the crowd. As if by coincidence or some elvish magic, Thranduil seemed to sensed Bilbo watching him and turned towards their direction, his cool, ice blue eyes looking over the towering rock of the Mountain for their presence.

“Inside,” Náli stepped in front of Bilbo, blocking his view of the Elvenking before he could wave. “We’ll take the back way through the south chamber and up to the secret staircase. His majesty requested his intended to take a place of honor close to the throne and next to his family. The passage we take is known only to a few of the Durin line, so I request that you kept the route secret.”

Loni paused, her foot halfway in the door. “South chamber? But doesn’t that lead away from the throne room?”

“Only for a little ways,” Náli answered, setting a hand on Bilbo’s lower back and pushing him onward. The hobbit jumped, startled by the touch, and hopped forward quickly to get away from it. As he passed through the door he had to blink wildly to get his eyesight to adjust to the change in lighting, the tunnel shrouded in shadows so black it was like stepping through a veil and into the night.

Master Náli said something in Khuzdul to a few guards waiting at the entrance; they nodded, two of them giving Bilbo a strange look from under their silver helmets before trooping off. The one remaining guard stepped past them, pulling the heavy stone door closed behind them, the locking mechanisms clacking loudly in place and causing the hobbits to jump.   

“W-where are they going?” Reg asked, glancing cautiously back at the dwarf now guarding the locked door.

Náli smiled delicately at them, sweeping his robe behind him in a flourish as he gestured them into the barely lit tunnels. “They are informing his Majesty of Mister Baggins arrival. Now let’s not dally, forward we go.”

Loni’s forehead wrinkled as she frowned, but she led the trek onwards despite her suspicions. Inside the Mountain now, Bilbo noticed how quiet the halls were without the everyday bustle of dwarves scurrying around doing their jobs. Very few dwarves lingered in the hallways, and most were dwarves Bilbo had never seen before, guards in unfamiliar armor and brown cloaks that covered their heads with only the whites of their eyes visible as they watched them proceed farther into the Mountain. Bilbo felt a chill run up his spine and he pressed closer to Reginard, weaving his arm through his cousin’s as he tried in vain to ignore their gazes.

“Don’t mind them,” Náli said, his cheeks flushing with excitement. “They are just the hired help, completely under my command. Most of the soldiers requested off to watch the coronation with their families, so I was tasked with finding outside assistance at guarding the kingdom. They know of you and my orders towards your safety Mister Baggins. I reminded them that you are a _very important_ character to the King and should anything happen, both I and his Majesty would be fairly upset.”

“O-oh?” Bilbo swallowed, the peaceful feeling he had before stepping into the Mountain disappearing the farther they traversed. He would swear that shadows were growing, reaching towards them like arms trying to grasp at the hems of their clothes.

Loni’s steps had slowed down as she became unsure of their direction and the three of them were group so tightly together it was a wonder they could walk. Master Náli pressed up behind them, his hands reaching out to touch Bilbo or Reginard to move them in the right direction when they paused to look around. Bilbo could tell the other hobbit was getting frustrated, confused that the Councilman would not just take up the lead instead of herding them around like sheep.

“You know, did I ever tell you about the time I tried to court a hobbit, Mister Baggins?” Náli said casually, like he didn’t even notice the apprehensive atmosphere around them. He slipped in next to Bilbo, forcing Reginard to stumble aside. His eyes gleaming eerily in the torch light as the blond hobbit shook his head. “No? Shame, I thought I would have said something _to you_ by now. Everyone else knows of it. It is one of my greatest humiliations.”

“Hu-humiliations?” Reginard squeaked, shooting the dwarf an offended expression Náli ignored. Instead the Councilmen stared at Bilbo, eyes wide and face leering as he looked the hobbit over. Reginard gave the dwarf a shrewd look before rushing to catch up with Loni. Their heads were bent together as they walked, whispering furiously at each other and shooting Bilbo anxious expressions over their shoulders.

“You remind me of her,” Náli continued, either unaware or uncaring how he made the others uncomfortable. “Her beautiful flaxen curls and glimmering topaz eyes. Had Thorin not seen you first, I’m sure I would have attempted to court you myself.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, unsure what else he should say as the air around them turned awkward with tension.

“Had I been a younger dwarf I would have challenged his Majesty for your hand. Sadly, there is no one better at sword fighting than Master Thorin when he is at his best, so it seems a  Durin will once again get his way in the end,” Náli sighed forlornly, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

A chill went down Bilbo’s spine and his forehead broke out in a sweat. “Y-yes, no one is better at swords than Thorin. He proved himself in the arena only a few days ago. He even bested the elf Gildor Inglorion, whom I’ve been readily informed by Prince Legolas is one of the best swordsmen of his kind.”

“I remember,” the dwarf said, his eye bright with some hidden scheme. “You sat with the Elvenking for that competition. I must say that you have very noble connections for a halfling. Thorin is very lucky to have had you.”   

“U-um,” Bilbo paused. He knew something wasn’t right about this conversation and he didn’t understand where Master Náli’s sudden envy came from. Every time they’d met before, the dwarf had been domineering and offended with Bilbo’s very presence. It was so odd now that the Councilman was practically announcing he would court Bilbo if he had the chance.

At Bilbo’s speechlessness, the dwarf smirked. A heavy foreboding fell over Bilbo and he knew, somehow, that the night was not going to end well for him if he did not get to Thorin soon. 

Bilbo opened his mouth to say something to the others, but as they rounded a tight corner, Reginard bounced off a shadowed figure and he let out a piercing scream. The other hobbit’s yelling caused Bilbo to cry out, tripping back into Master Náli as both Reginard and Loni crashed into him trying to get away from the monstrous creature. From the little light they had, Bilbo could see the beast’s shadow had horns protruding from its head, large muscled arms, stocky legs, and a large weapon Bilbo could not discern strapped to its back. It let out a howling cry, bending forward like it was about to charge them.

Bilbo whimpered in fright and one of his hands went to the dagger at his belt. He didn’t know how, but somehow an orc had made its way inside Erebor. Bilbo’s courage rose up in him and he pulled his courting dagger out and pointed it with trembling hands at the dark shadow. Then the panting orc stepped into the light.

“Winded me ya did,” It gasped and Bilbo furrowed his brows in confusion. The orc sounded oddly familiar. “Woah! None of that now, it’s just me, laddie.” Bofur stepped forward and held his hands up in surrender. “Why Bilbo, fancy seeing you here! What are you doing so far into the Mountain? Are you searching for Thráin too? I wouldn’t have expected Thorin to send _you_ out to find him, but I’ve never understood that dwarf’s mind half the time.”

“Bofur! Thank Eru.” Bilbo sighed loudly and his shoulder’s sagged with relief, his dagger nearly slipping from his numb fingers as he lowered and sheathed it.

The miner looked them all over with a confused expression. “Right….Not that I ain’t happy to see ya. Is anyone going to answer my question?”

Bifur lumbered out behind Bofur, a box of toys in his hands as he muttered Khuzdul to himself. He barely glanced up at them before he pushed a wooden bird into Loni’s hands. She blinked in startled disbelief, clutching the toy to her chest.

“This area is forbidden to commoners!” Náli spit, rushing forward through the three of them and thrusting Bilbo hard against the tunnel wall behind him. The hobbit let out a surprised gasp of air, his crown tumbling to the floor. The metal circlet hit the stone and rung loudly in the hall, the sound echoing around them.

The dwarves all froze and Reginard was quick to scoop the crown up and place it back on Bilbo’s head, almost like nothing happened.

“Bilbo,” Bofur said, taking a step forward and eyeing Master Náli suspiciously. “Is everything okay here? Does Thorin know where you are?”

“That’s King Thorin to you,” Náli snarled, his face turning red.

Bofur wrinkled his nose up and gave the Councilman such an incredulous look Bilbo coughed out a laugh in surprise. “In normal circumstances I would take your words for it, but _his Majesty_ has requested I do otherwise. He’s a fussy dwarf, much like a hobbit I know.” He gave Bilbo a wink and Náli sputtered in outrage.

“How dare you--!”

Bifur said something sharp in Khuzdul and Loni squeaked in disbelief, her hands moving to cover her mouth as she gapped at the dwarf. Bofur laughed enthusiastically, clapping Bifur on the back and agreeing loudly.

“That he is, Bifur. Now, since ye seem to be heading in the wrong directions, I’ll take ye back the right way before _his Majesty_ sends out another search party to find ye. He’d be in a right mess if both his father and his hobbit were missing from the ceremony. He’s been moody all afternoon, pacing the hallways, grumbling to himself like a madman, and sending us on last minute errands. Mahal bless him, he means wells, but he’s a bit daft like every other fool in love.”

“T-this is just nonsense! You can’t--!”

Bofur ignored the outraged dwarf, slipping an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder and turning them around back the way they came. Master Náli was forced to move aside or risk having both Bofur and Bilbo run into him. Bofur grinned at the hobbit, talking loudly so the others could hear about his plans for the after-party celebrations. “I want you to meet some of my relatives. They’re a bit odd, I’ll admit, but they’re not a bad lot. It’s possible there could be some inbreeding on one side of the family so ya have to excuse their eccentricity. My cousin Rumbior, on my mother’s side, he--Bilbo!”

The dwarf’s story was interrupted when Náli charged them from behind, forcing Bofur to let go of the hobbit and push him out of the way so he could pull out his pickaxe and confront the other dwarf. Bilbo fell to his knees, ripping a large tear in his trousers and skinning his palms. The crown tumbled once again to the floor on its side, rolling down the hallway and into the shadows. 

“Bilbo!” Reginard cried out, dropping down beside the hobbit and checking him over. “Are you okay?” He turned and glared at the dwarves squaring off against each other. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“You filthy--” Náli snarled at Bofur, pulling a long, jeweled sword out from under his cloak. Bilbo blinked, startled that Náli was wearing such a large weapon this whole time and he hadn’t noticed it. “You dare treat _me_ like that?”

Bofur laughed much to Bilbo’s disbelief. “I don’t even know who ya are, though your face does look a mite familiar.” He shrugged, tossing his pickaxe from hand to hand. “You’d think I’d remember a nose like that.”

Náli was nearly purple with rage and spitting obscenities. “You insult me! I will have your beard!”

The miner smirked, looking very roguish. “You can sure try to take it.”

Swinging wildly, Náli’s sword hit against the axe handle and sent sparks flying in the air. Náli swung again and again and Bofur blocked each blow easily, his weapon a lot more maneuverable in the small tunnel compared to Náli’s ornate long sword. Reginard and Bilbo pressed against the wall, trying to stay out of the way as the two dwarves circled one another. Bifur and Loni stood calmly back, like seeing two dwarves fighting like this was an everyday occurrence.

“I will not--,” Náli panted, eyes blood-shot with anger. “You will not--My plans have been in the works for months! I will not have some dunderheaded peon ruin my trap because he stumbled down the wrong tunnel.”

“Oi, no need to name-call,” Bofur danced out of the way of a vicious thrust. So far, the Councilman hadn’t been able to land a single blow and Bofur seemed reluctant to attack, staying mostly on the offensive. “And really, you are just telling me your plans here. Even if you somehow get past me, Bifur will just take up where I left off and he won’t be near as nice as I am.”

Náli roared, hefting his sword over his head, ready to bring it down to strike Bofur. Except when the sword made its downward descent, it embedded itself in the ceiling.

Everyone froze, staring up at the ceiling in shock. It looked like an old wooden arch had been exposed by fallen rocks and the sharp blade of the sword had gotten stuck. Náli gave the sword a good shake, hoping to pull it loose.

“Well then,” Bofur said, stepping back now that the other dwarf wasn’t a threat. He was still smart enough to have his weapon pointed forward though. “It seems to me the Mountain has made its decision and you won’t be getting your way after all. Let’s turn around and head back to the main chambers. I think Dwalin would like to have a word with you and I’m sure Thorin would like to know what plans you had for his Consort.”

Bilbo was yanked up from the floor and suddenly there was a hand at his hip, slipping up his thigh and jerking at his belt. Bilbo pulled in a breath of air to yell, but quickly swallowed it down when his own dagger was pulled from its sheath and held at his throat, the sharp edge forcing his chin up as it rested delicately against the skin. Bilbo gulped loudly, going onto his tippy-toes as Master Náli held him against his chest.

“No one’s going anywhere except where I tell them to,” Náli said, his venomous voice right in Bilbo’s ear. “Unless you would like the King to discover his Consort’s throat slit from ear to ear, you’ll set down your weapons and continue on to where I tell you.”

 Bifur looked like he wasn’t quite ready to comply with the order until Bofur tossed his own weapon to the floor and gave his cousin a nod. The dwarf spit obscenities out, glaring hotly at Master Náli as he pitched his staff forward.

Náli moved the dagger from Bilbo’s throat to point at the four others. “All of you now. Empty your pockets. I don’t want so much as a hairpin between you. One wrong move and it will be the hobbit’s last.” The Councilman’s tone was calm and composed for the despicable act he was committing.

“W-what are you doing?” Bilbo asked through gasping breaths. He tried to suck in as much air as he could with the dagger away from him, panting wildly and afraid that Náli would follow through with his threat.  The dwarf ignored him though, more concerned with disabling the others.

With tears in her eyes, Loni unbraided her hair and dropped the jeweled hair accessories on the growing pile of weapons. Even Reginard emptied a small pocketknife from his trousers, throwing it carelessly as he glowered at them. It took a while for Bofur to add all his weapons to the growing pile. The clash of metal hitting metal reverberated around them and back down the tunnel. Bilbo hoped that someone would hear the noise and come investigate before Náli could enact whatever plot he had for them.  

“There, now unhand Bilbo!” Reginard said loudly, lurching forward as if he was about to do something foolish when the dagger was back at Bilbo’s throat. Bofur thankfully grabbed the hobbit’s arm and restrained him.

Náli rubbed his nose against Bilbo’s cheek and smirked at them, laughing in delight when Bilbo trembled with revulsion. “I don’t think I will. Now walk, straight ahead until I tell you otherwise. _Bilbo_ will stay close to me to insure your compliance.”

“You don’t deserve to--” Reginard’s words were cut off when Bilbo gave him a desperate look. The last thing Bilbo wanted was one of them to get hurt because of him. He could handle a bit of manhandling if it kept them all safe. Bilbo assumed if the dwarf wanted him dead he would have killed him already despite there being witnesses. His last hope was that whatever Náli planned, he did not wish them any true harm.

Bilbo’s mind went into a foggy haze of controlled terror as Náli led them deeper and then higher into the Mountain. The tunnels grew dusty and dirty with disuse the farther they went; spider webs lining the ceiling and dead mouse carcasses littered the floor, something odd and disgusting crunched under Bilbo’s feet with every awkward step he took.  When the lanterns began to run out and their visibility almost nonexistent, Náli ordered Bifur to make a torch to light the way. Bofur set his hand against the wall as they paused to wait and Náli yelled at the dwarf for trying to leave a trail for Thorin and his men to follow.

“Not that anyone else will find you where I’m taking you,” Náli amended after a moment when he seemed to figure out he gave some sort of information away he shouldn’t have. “I won’t risk my plans falling through because of a couple of peasants and two halflings tried to outsmart me.”

Bofur grumbled, “If you weren’t holding Bilbo hostage, I’ll show you exactly what this peasant can do to you.”

“I doubt you would even be a challenge to me,” Náli scoffed, seemingly forgetting his confrontation with Bofur just a few moments ago. “I fought in Khazad-dûm with honor and have killed fifteen orcs since my prime. You are hardly even half my age and without the experience.” Master Náli snorted, a bit of snot slipping down Bilbo’s collar. Bilbo clenched his eyes tightly closed, thinking of more pleasant things than the situation they were in at the moment. Náli’s hand was tight around his stomach, the gold armor digging into Bilbo’s belly and making him nauseous. If it wasn’t for the mithril shirt underneath, the hobbit was sure there would have been bruises left behind.

Bifur gestured at the axe imbedded in his head and said something in Khuzdul.

“Master Náli has no _honor_ and therefore I doubt he has any ability to feel the bonds of brotherhood,” Loni said to Bifur, glaring over her shoulder as her long hair hung loose down her back.

Being held against Master Náli’s chest, Bilbo could feel how Loni’s words affected the dwarf. He tensed and his breathing was quick with fury, his grip on the dagger tightened and he pressed it closer to Bilbo’s neck, the tip nicking against the underside of Bilbo’s ear. The hobbit hissed and gritted his teeth in pain.

“Say one more word, woman, and I will make sure the halfling will never speak again.”

Loni squeaked and quickly turned back around, marching steadily with the others as they started back on their way. Even with the torch, the shadowed abyss before them was like the maul of a dragon to Bilbo. The broken stones littering the floor looked like barbed teeth, and the dark tunnel ahead, the gullet. With Bifur’s torch being held right in front of him, Bilbo thought for a moment he might be seared alive by the mystical creature and had to shake himself from his terrified imagination.

“P-please, don’t hurt th-them,” Bilbo whispered, aware of the sharp edge against his throat as they trekked behind the others. Ever step they took he could feel the cold steel slide against the vulnerable skin of his neck, sometimes snagging on the high collar of the clothes he’d been provided. “If it’s me you want, let them go. They have nothing to do with your vendetta.”

“Oh,” Náli chuckled, his one hand not holding the sword slipping up Bilbo’s chest. He paused with his palm pressing over the hobbit’s heart. “Quick as a rabbit,” Náli said, confusing Bilbo for a moment. “You are right you know. My _vendetta_ is not against _you_ _or Thorin_ , and yet my revenge can only be accomplished through you both.”

Bilbo gritted his teeth, a wave of revulsion running through him and pooling in his stomach. He had to remind himself to be brave, to show no fear at the dwarf’s touch and only hope that it would all be over soon. “I-I still don’t understand? Why are you doing this?”

“You can’t reason with him, Bilbo,” Reginard said over his shoulder, dragging his feet through the dusty floor. Even with the torch, it was still hard to see everything around them and every few turns they would come to some stairs or fallen statue, making it hard for the hobbit to navigate. “He’s a halfwit and--and a traitor!”

“And what does that make us,” Bofur muttered, helping Loni to her feet when she tripped over a collapsed column. “Falling so easily into his clutches. My mam would be so upset if she could see me now,” the dwarf grumbled, earning a groan from Bifur.

The Councilman chuckled, amused by their confusion and anger. “Did you know that Thorin did not win the battle of Khazad-dûm?” He asked Bilbo abruptly, as if they were having a casual conversation over tea. “I’m sure you’ve heard tales of his great deeds and leadership. But, it always seemed odd to me that he was praised to be a victor in a battle he never won.”

Bifur glared at Náli, mercifully biting his tongue before he could say anything to upset the other dwarf.  

“Of course I do not begrudge his accomplishments,” Náli swung the dagger away from Bilbo’s neck and moved it back and forth in the air in front of them as he talked. “He killed Azog, a foul creature indeed. And he led the very battle that killed his brother, so he did me one favor in that.”

Bilbo’s stomach twisted and he thought he might be sick. He knew, with sudden clarity that struck like lightning, what had brought this all on.   

“It was _you_. You were the dwarf who tried to court my grandmother. And Frerin, he was the dwarf that took my grandfather’s place in the challenge and beat you.”

Náli chuckled, “Ahh, I see you figured it out.”

“I don’t understand though,” Bilbo said once he got his terror back under control. “Why are you doing this to us, to me? That was long ago and Thorin had nothing to do with it. Frerin’s dead. Your hate for him should have died with him.”

“Stop here!” The councilmen barked, poking the tip of the dagger into Bifur’s back. “See that open door on the left? In through there, all of you. Don’t try anything funny or your friend will get it.”

The four drudged forward into the gloomy chamber. Reginard was as pale as a ghost and trembling uncontrollably, hugging himself and watching the sword against Bilbo’s throat intently. The dwarves looked to be in a better state, angry more than anything as they turned their fierce gaze on Náli. Bofur met Bilbo’s eyes, his expression reassuring and he tipped his chin down just a smidge, as if trying to assure the hobbit everything would be okay. 

Náli smiled cruelly at them, apparently satisfied to have them at his mercy. “I must thank you _Bilbo_ , for making my revenge just that much sweeter against the line of Durin and also for presenting a wonderful opportunity to enact my retribution against the Baggins line without drawing too much suspicion on myself. Two birds with one stone. You made everything so much more easier for me.” 

 “B-but--” Bilbo stuttered, trying to rational why Náli was doing what he was. It didn’t make logical sense to him at all. “This is madness! Why would you even think--”

“Silence!” The dwarf snarled, “I don’t want to hear another word from a sniveling ferret like you.”

“Ferret!” Bilbo squawked, appalled at the slur despite his fear. The dwarf already had him at sword point, there was no reason to go name calling.

Náli turned his head and spit, almost hitting Bilbo’s foot. “You may look like Laura, but you are very much a Baggins and long ago I swore revenge on both the Bagginses and the Durins for what was done to me. In my youth I might have thought hobbits were kind and gentle creatures, but I know better now. Just like your ancestor, you are a deceiving and spiteful creature. I’d almost feel I was doing Thorin a service getting rid of you had he been any other dwarf.”

“You can’t--”

“You will see that I can,” Náli mocked, the dagger tip running down Bilbo’s torso and cutting at the delicate cloth and slicing at the buttons until they popped right off. The blue cloth opened up like a flower, exposing the thin, white tunic underneath. When the dagger stopped at the collar of Bilbo’s jacket, it exposed the mark Thorin had left of his skin.

“Mahal,” Náli whispered, “I see that Thorin wasted no time in spoiling you.”

For a moment the hobbit couldn’t see through the rage welling up in him. “ _Spoiled?_ You speak as if I am second hand goods because I have lain with the dwarf I love. What Thorin and I do together in the privacy of our rooms is of no concern to you or anybody else, so see to it that you keep your big nose out of it!”

“Bilbo…,” Reginard whined, wringing his hands together. The hobbit could understand his cousin’s concern, but Bilbo didn’t think Náli had the right to humiliate him along with everything else he’d done to Bilbo and his friends so far.

“It isn’t private when you both so blatantly flaunt your actions in front of the whole Kingdom!” Nali snarled in Bilbo’s face.

Bilbo started to struggling, trying for the first time to get out of the dwarf’s grip. “How dare you!”

“Stop it or we’ll see how much Thorin will still regard you if you’re missing a limb or two,” Náli spit, putting his arm across Bilbo’s neck and choking him until he stopped trying to wrestle free. The hobbit fought for air, tears gathering at his eyes and clawing uncontrollably at the dwarf’s arm. Eventually Náli released him enough he could breathe again and the grey fog receded from his vision. The others must have made a move for them because the dagger was pointed at them.

“Please!” Bilbo begged, tears slipping down his cheeks and panting. He didn’t even know what exactly he was begging for, maybe everything and anything, but he just couldn’t stand to let what was happening happen. “P-please don’t…”

Bofur hissed between his teeth when Náli nuzzled Bilbo’s cheek again and the hobbit concentrated on his friends and not what was happening to him. He could feel Náli’s smile against the back of his neck and was frightened by what the dwarf’s amusement meant.

“You do beg so prettily. Once Thorin is dealt with, I will return to dole out your fate. I have not quite decided yet what to do with you. For your precious Shire’s future and the lives of your friends, I’m sure we can come to some _agreement_ on how you can pay back your ancestors dept to me.”

Bilbo closed his eyes tightly and hung his head, tears falling freely now that the reality of the situation came over him. Thorin, his Thorin, was in danger and the dwarf that wanted to hurt Bilbo’s beloved couldn’t even see the madness in his own plot. Bilbo hoped whatever Náli had planned, he would do tonight, when Thorin was surrounded by his friends and foreign dignitaries armed and suspicious of each other. Bilbo never thought he’d be thankful of the distrust between elves and dwarves. Despite there being a group of unfamiliar dwarves in the Mountain, Thorin’s guards wouldn’t be useless just because they weren’t on duty. If anything, they’d probably be more suspicious. Dwalin’s presence alone relieved Bilbo of most worry he had for Thorin’s safety and that wasn’t counting the fact that there was a wizard, _possibly three of them_ , in the Mountain.

Of course, Bilbo’s optimism relied on the fact that Thorin did not do anything _brave or stupid_.

“You won’t get away with this!” Bilbo said softly, sniffling away the last of his tears. He would be courageous and he would do everything he could to help his friends get out of this alive. He couldn’t worry about Thorin just yet. He had to focus on what was happening now and tears would not help him in this situation.  “Whatever you have planned will not work. Thorin will stop you before you can even try anything. I know he will! He is a better dwarf than you will ever be!”

Náli’s hand jerked away from Bilbo and the dagger slipped from the hobbit’s neck to poke into his back. Bilbo hadn’t expected to be relieved like he was that his own dagger was about to stab him in the back, but he was just happy to be away from the dwarf’s touch.

“Such trust,” Náli mocked, pushing Bilbo forward into the chamber and into his friends waiting arms. Reginard jerked forward and grabbed at the hobbit, clutched Bilbo to him tightly and squeezing the breath right out of him as Loni and Bofur patted him over looking for injuries. With the others fussing at him, Bilbo almost missed what Náli said next.

“We will see how that trust holds after a few days in here. I’m sure you’ll be more compliant to my demands once you’ve suffered the isolation and starvation of being locked away where no one can find you _but me_.”

Bifur yelled something in Khuzdul, hefted one of the fallen columns on his shoulder, and charged Náli. The Councilman spooked, startling back a step before he surged forward and quickly closed the stone door before Bifur could reach him. The chamber went dark and the torch fizzled into a soft ember, the silence suddenly deafening around them.   

“Right,” Bofur said calmly. “That could have gone a lot worse.”

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope both Náli’s hatred and lust for Bilbo makes sense. He hates hobbits now, but he does see Bilbo as a potential replacement of sorts for Laura, one that he can abuse and take his anger out on for what Bilbo’s grandfather did to him. It didn't make it in this chapter, but Náli still respects Laura, he just thinks she was scammed into marriage with Mungo because the other hobbit had Frerin step in for him. He’s bitter, real bitter, about what happened.


	39. King of the Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo insists that he is fine and tries not to worry for Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed! I really wanted to post this before I went to the midnight release! =) 
> 
> Enjoy The Hobbit: DOS everybody!

****

“Are you hurt? Oh Eru, this is horrible. Bilbo, are you alright?” Reginard stammered, patting the other hobbit down looking for injuries.

“I’m fine,” Bilbo said, sitting up from where he’d slumped on the ground. He touched his neck gently, checking on the small cut Náli had left. Thankfully the dagger had only just nicked him a little and he’d stopped bleeding a while ago, so he wasn’t too worried about infections and whatnot. “He didn’t hurt me, just frightened me and tore up my clothes a little.”

“This is awful,” the other hobbit wailed, hugging Bilbo again for the twenty-something time since they’d been locked in the dark chamber. Bilbo would have been irritated by the fussing if he didn’t think Reginard was using him to mask his own fears, so he handled it all as gracefully as he could, even letting the other hobbit lean against him when he didn’t feel much like being touched by others at the moment.

As soon as they’d all taken stock of the situation, Bifur and Loni started working to get the torch relit while Bofur cased the room. Since the dwarves’ eyesight was much more superior in the dark compared to the hobbits, they had planted the two cousins in the middle of the room and started investigating, calling out their progress to each other in a mix of common and Khuzdul. 

“Aha!” Loni called out joyfully, getting the fire to flare back up. Bifur started collecting old wooden furniture to make kindle, piling the broken wood in front of the hobbits for a bonfire.

“Will we be able to have a fire without suffocating?” Bilbo asked, curious. It would be a shame that after everything that had happened they’d die of smoke inhalation.

Bifur nodded quickly and then went back to arranging the tender.

“There are vents all over the Mountain,” Bofur supplied for the hobbits. “You might not see them, but they’ve been worked in to blend with the architecture seamlessly. This chamber might be from an older age, but it’s still getting fresh air and is perfectly safe for a fire. See the corner molding,” the miner pointed at a lumpy spot nearby and Bilbo squinted at it. “The crowning is actually the piping, hidden behind the design.”

“Oh,” Bilbo sighed, sitting back. He was actually very thankful they’d be able to have a fire. This deep in the Mountain the air was cold and the stone icy, making it hard to be comfortable sitting around waiting for your abductor to come back and ‘deal out your fate’.  Now he could think up a plan without being distracted by the cold.

After the bonfire was lit and they had a steady blaze going, the dwarves wandered off to explore the chamber, wandering back every few minutes to verify if the hobbits were alright despites Bilbo’s reassurances that he was fine. Reginard sat close to Bilbo on the floor, holding his palms over the fire to ward off the chill and muttering about Náli under his breath. Bilbo frowned at the embers that sparked in the wood pile. He wondered what Náli had planned and what the dwarf’s gain was in all this besides the obvious.

 “What do you think he’s going to do to Thorin?” Bilbo asked his cousin, morbidly curious.

Reg scoffed.  “Nothing. I doubt he’ll even get the chance to try anything before the guards deal with him.”

Bilbo could understand Reginard’s optimism. Ginnar was a guard, so the other hobbit knew their strength better than Bilbo would.   

“I wish I had as much confidence as you,” Bilbo said softly, his gaze falling on the ring Thorin had loaned him yesterday. The blue stone glittered in the light of the fire as dread settled heavily in Bilbo’s stomach. He dearly hoped it wasn’t the last memorabilia he’d receive from the dwarf.

 The other hobbit put an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder. “It will be fine. Just wait and see.”

Bilbo nodded numbly, though he doubted Reginard’s words. He didn’t understand the certainty the other hobbit emanated, but he wouldn’t ruin the small spark of positivity they had in such a dire situation. If they could stay calm and composed, they might be able to get out before Náli could enact his revenge.

He shivered violently when a thought came to him. Did Náli plan to kill the King? Surely Náli wasn’t mad enough to do such a thing? There was no way he’d get away with it! Even if Náli somehow made it past the Royal Guards, Thorin was expertly trained enough to block any attempt on his life.

Or, well, Bilbo hoped so at least.

He knew Thorin was proficient at fighting, but what if Náli could somehow get the drop on Thorin and surprise him enough to get a fatal blow in? The dread already sitting heavy in Bilbo’s stomach bubbled up in apprehension. There had been greater warriors than Thorin Oakenshield who’ve met their unexpected end on the wrong side of a sword. 

“Did you say Thráin was missing?” Bilbo asked suddenly, recalling something Bofur had mentioned earlier.

“Aye,” Bofur coughed, looking flustered by all the dust he was stirring up from his search for another exit. “Wandered off with Gandalf this morning. Last anybody saw them they were harassing Thorin over some trinket and then afterwards, one of the maids overheard them talking about looking for _snails_ in the Southern slopes. The guards though said they never saw him leave the Mountain.”

“But if he’s missing…” Bilbo trailed off, imploring the dwarf to see the connection he was trying to make.

Bofur didn’t seem troubled in the least and shrugged casually, pausing in his search to sit down with his cousin on the floor next to them. “He goes off on his own all the time, nothing to worry about. And he’s with Gandalf, so he has some protection if that _ishuke_ tries anything against the Ol’ King.”

Bilbo bit his lip, still confused and worried for the older dwarf. He didn’t know how Thorin would react if something happened to his father. Frerin’s death already seemed to haunt him – in more ways than one – and Bilbo didn’t know how Thorin would take it if something happened to his father too. Bilbo sighed, sagging against his cousin in defeat. “If you say so, I just– I just feel so helpless like this.”

Bifur reached across the fire and patted his arms, mumbling in Khuzdul.

“He says everything will be fine,” Loni supplied, taking a seat across from them, also warming her hands over the fire. “King Thorin and King Thráin are skilled warriors, it is doubtful Master Náli will be able to do them any harm.” Bifur nodded, making a series of gestures with his hands. “And—well, this doesn’t translate well, but he basically says that you should rest your shield, lean on the stones, listen and always remember, long are the arms and legs of men, yet still longer, the dwarven members.” 

“What?” Reginard asked, shooting Bifur and Loni a disbelieving look.

Loni smiled, “It’s a dwarven battlefield limerick. Sort of like the proverb to leave iron to rest before you hammer it or the one about listening to cave-toads speaking.”

“What are you going on about?” Reginard abruptly raged, throwing his hands up in the air. “Do none of you understand what just happened? We were betrayed, by one of King Thorin’s Councilmen, and now we are trapped here for an unknown length of time until he comes back. Why are none of you concerned? Do you not care? Bilbo just had a sword to his throat and Master Náli wants to do who knows what else to him!”

“Reg,” Bilbo sighed, closing his eyes at the memory. His limbs still jittered with lingering anxiety over what had happened and the reminder wasn’t helping calm him any.

“What?” The other hobbit said, throwing an arm back around Bilbo and hugging him. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I said I was _fine_ ,” Bilbo snapped, jerking away. Reginard shrunk back like he was stung, his expression hurt. Bilbo felt awful about taking his frustrations out on his cousin, but he was getting tired of being asked if he was alright or not. 

Everyone uneasily looked elsewhere but at each other.

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said after the long, awkward moment. “I’m just… It’s been such a horrid day. First this morning’s argument with Thorin, then this afternoon being hounded by the relatives, and to cap it all off Master Náli doing… w-what he did. I don’t feel  I’m right for company at the moment.”

“No one blames ya, lad,” Bofur said, scooting closer to the hobbit and putting an arm around him. The dwarf smelled pleasantly like pipe-smoke and sweet meats, and Bilbo found himself curling against Bofur’s side before he knew it. The scent reminded him of his father and he couldn’t help but want to be near something familiar in such a distressing situation. Bofur continued, “There’s nothing to apologize for. There’s no way ya could know that ishuke would betray ya or Thorin like he did.” Bofur patted at Bilbo’s head.  “We’re stuck together anyhow, so we’ll deal with any bad moods that come along.”

Bilbo laughed humorlessly, tugging the frayed cloth of his jacket around his chest and trying to keep warm. “I know, but I shouldn’t take my bad mood out on everybody else. You all are in the same situation I am, so I have no right to get angry with any of you.”

“Bilbo,” Reginard said softly, his expression distressed as he looked his cousin over. “It’s fine. We didn’t have a sword to our throats like you did, so I don’t hold it against you for being angry or upset. I don’t even mind getting yelled at as long as it means you are alright.”

“Thank you, Reg.”

The hobbits shared a tender smile and all was forgiven between them.

“He’s right,” Bofur said. “I don’t know many hobbits who could’ve handled all this any better than ya did. You acted bravely and Thorin will be proud of how ya handled that.”

“If Thorin’s still alive when we get out,” Bilbo muttered, wiping his nose. The very idea, that right now Thorin was in danger and no one knew, struck terror throughout his being. It grew like a bud into a thorny vine and twisted up until it gripped his heart tightly, squeezing.  The hobbit was barely able to hold back the tears that threatened to fall again and he had to breathe deeply to keep the panic at bay.

“Now, none of that, laddie,” Bofur said, knocking his head gently against Bilbo’s. “Ya are with a very capable group of dwarves and we’ll find some way out of here _before_ hecomes back. We can’t go through the main door, in case Náli posted guards, but there are not many chambers in the Mountain that don’t have some secret passage out of them. It’s just a matter of finding them.”

“Secret passages?” Bilbo asked as hope bloomed in his chest like the spring daffodil after a long winter. If they could sneak out and thwart Náli plans before he made his move, then Thorin could be saved before he could even be put in danger. Bilbo could just imagine the surprise on the Councilman’s face, knowing his plans had been foiled by a _halfling,_ one he hadn’t even viewed to be a threat in the first place. And Thorin, oh Thorin, Bilbo would just be happy to be back in his dwarf’s arms, safe and content to never be apart ever again.

“We’ll tunnel out of here if there isn’t any exit,” Bofur said, interrupting Bilbo’s thoughts. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find something around here to make a mattock with or I’ll call myself an elf.”

Bilbo sat up straight and banged his fist against his knees. “You’re right, we shouldn’t dawdle. I should do something helpful. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it!”  

“Wait–” Bofur began but Bilbo cut him off.

“No. I can’t just sit around waiting for… for–” Bilbo blinked wildly, stunned by a thought that had just occurred to him. He didn’t want to mention it, but Náli had only stated he would return for Bilbo. The Councilman had said nothing of what would happen to Bilbo’s companions. A shiver rand down his spine and the hobbit had to quickly hold his hands over the fire to chase away the goosebumps that prickled up his arms.

“For Thorin to save you?” Reginard suggested helpfully when the other hobbit didn’t finish his sentence. Bilbo agreed readily, though that wasn’t really what he had been about to say.

“I won’t sit around and wait to be rescued when it could be in my ability to save myself,” Bilbo stated, rubbing his face with the palm of his hands. “I’m not some– some human _Princess_ waiting for my Prince to save me. I’m a hobbit and we’re hardier than you dwarves think! We’ll get out and thwart Náli’s devious plans!”

The dwarves looked up at Bilbo in awe and Reginard seemed to get into a similar heroic mood as his cousin, jumping to his feet and looking around the chamber like a door would magically appear now that they’d all decided to look for one. “You’re right! No use sitting around to be rescued. Ginnar and I have an emergency exit in the closet; do you suppose it’s the same here?”

Bofur rolled his eyes in exasperation at the hobbits, “Could be.” He stood slowly, dusting off his clothes and fixing his hat. “Ya two can look in the obvious places. Bifur and I will look elsewhere. We’ll stay in pairs, so we don’t get misplaced. The chambers pretty big, but it’s old and a piece of ceiling might tumble down and hurt ya. Also, look out for trap doors and booby traps. They were a bit suspicious in the older days.”

“R-right,” Reg’s bravery waned and he looked at the dresser apprehensively.

“What about me?” Loni piped up, bringing everyone attention to where she’d been sitting quietly. Her long auburn hair hung loosely over her shoulder like a copper veil and blended smoothly with her mustache. A bit of dust smudged her right cheek and her skin glowed like dark amber honey in the firelight. With her red dress and shawl and the bit of jewelry she still wore, she looked beautiful and exotic, even to the hobbits.

“Well, uh,” Bofur stuttered, looking flustered. Reginard frowned at the dwarf. “Ya can help whichever group ya’d like, lass.”

Loni hummed in agreement and her eyes squinted at the other dwarf. “I’ll stay with Bilbo if you don’t mind.”

“Of– of course not!” Bofur smoothed out his mustache and then stumbled away. He glanced once back over his shoulder, a look of puzzlement creasing his brow and his cheeks flushing pink.

Reginard gritted his teeth. “What a cad.”

Having more important things to deal with than defending Bofur’s honor, Bilbo ignored his cousin and shared a soft smile with the dwarf maiden. “We didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“I know,” Loni shrugged, stepping around the fire to Bilbo’s side as Reginard stormed off towards what looked like a closet. “Just because I don’t have much stone sense to be of any help doesn’t mean I’m unwilling to be of assistance.”

“Bofur doesn’t know about that,” Bilbo said. “Besides, hobbits don’t have any stone sense either.”

“I guess you’re right,” Loni agreed, shrugging.

Bilbo followed after Reginard while Loni grabbed up one of the broken table legs from the fire, using it as a torch to light their way. The dwarven closet was very odd looking to the hobbit, never having been inside one before. There were drawers that pulled out into more drawers, doors that moved aside to reveal nooks filled with dusty glass figures, an odd circular shelf that rotated in the wall once you pushed a button, but there were no secret doors. Bilbo found the closet to be both entertaining and frustrating, knowing if he hadn’t been locked up in the chamber for a sinister purpose that he would have enjoyed finding out all the secret mechanics to dwarven architecture.   

After that, much of their time was dedicated to tapping against the walls and moving furniture aside to see if there were any signs of secret passages hidden about the chamber. Once the closet turned up empty except for an abandoned sparrow nest, the three of them looked elsewhere. Reginard and Bilbo started by rolling up the moth-eaten carpets, crawling over the floor space looking for a cellar door or something like those that hobbits had, but the floor was solid granite and there was nothing to be found. Loni checked out the lavatory, stumbling out on wobbly knees a few minutes later and reassuring them that there wasn’t anything in there they needed to see. Somewhere across the large chamber, Bofur and Bifur were making a significant headway in creating their own exit.

Bilbo plopped down on the rickety bed, sending up a cloud of dust. “This is pointless, isn’t it?”

“No. No it’s not,” Loni growled, huffing. She had black soot all over her pretty clothes and her once unblemished skin was now covered with grime. She was starting to look more and more like Mistress Flor the longer they stayed in the chamber.

Reg took a seat next to Bilbo, leaning against the bedpost and breathing loudly. “What is this place? I’ve never seen a room like this before.” He stared up at the high ceiling in wonder. Bilbo followed his gaze and nearly gasped in surprise. It was a painted motif of the night sky. Time had long faded the bright indigo paint and the warm glow from their torch was barely able to light it, but it wasn’t hard to distinguish certain constellations that were familiar to every hobbit in the Shire.

“It’s very pretty,” Bilbo admitted.

Loni set her hands on her hips and looked around. “I think this might be one of the old royal chambers or a dignitary’s? It’s overly big for just a regular room, and the furniture is very ornate.”

“There are signs it probably housed a Durin at one point,” Bofur said, sidling up to them holding a cracked plate with the Durin crests painted on it. Somehow the dwarf had been able to fashion a shovel out of half a helmet and a table leg and had used it to break into an old cedar chest housing a collection of dishes. Bilbo took the plate Bofur handed him, examining the style. The design looked very familiar. It wasn’t blockish or painted with gold leaf like most dwarven cutlery. The plate was thin and made of porcelain, painted wispily with colorful paint and gilded along the rim.  

“Huh, looks elvish,” Bilbo chirped, looking around. The chamber didn’t look anything like Thorin’s, or Thráin’s, for that matter. With the wooden furniture, whicker rocking chair, and large, curving book cases filled with dusty tomes, it almost seemed oddly hobbitish, or elvish, in design. The columns were shaped like white trees, their limbs ascending upward to support the ceiling. The walls were a mix of wood paneling that went halfway up before it smoothed out into emerald stone. The carpets looked like they’d been soft and plush once upon a time, made from thick wool and dyed with a vibrant variety of colors. Even the flower printed blanket Bilbo was sitting on looked like something his mother had owned at one point despite its threadbare state.

“I don’t care who used to live here, I just want out,” Reginard moaned, slumping against the curving headboard. “Do you suppose anyone has noticed we’re missing by now? I know his Majesty will probably be looking for Bilbo, but what about the rest of us?”

“I’m sure someone’s noticed,” Loni answered, patting Reg’s shoulder. “Your husband at least, and he’s probably already gone looking for you. Maybe he’ll backtrack to the Shire and find out Náli was the last dwarf to be seen with us.”

That news seemed to perk Reg up and he sat up straight. “You’re right! He knew I was going to see Bilbo and when I never returned he’d have gone looking for us. Someone will tell him who we were with and they’ll track Master Náli down and get the true story from him.” 

“But with all the commotion the coronations causing, I doubt things will be worked out quickly enough to save Thorin.” Bilbo bit his lips, staring down at his hands clenched around the plate. The painted seal of seven stars above a crown had a crack running right down the middle of it, cutting the sigil right in half.

“Bilbo…” Loni sighed, watching the hobbit helplessly.

Bilbo placed the plate aside on the night table. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so–”

Abruptly the sounds of bells ringing tolled throughout the Mountain, the resonance so loud and deafening the walls seemed to shake from the force of it. Everyone jumped, surprised by the unexpected sound.

“What is that?” Reginard asked loudly, covering his ears from the chiming of the bells. Bilbo followed suit, never having heard them so loudly before and wondering if the chamber they were locked in was near to the towers. The sound pounded through his head and Bilbo had to grit his teeth at the pain it caused. He could see Bofur and Loni move their mouth as if they were speaking, but neither hobbit could hear what was said.

“What? I can’t hear you!” Reginard yelled, shaking his head.

Still unable to hear over the ringing, Bilbo tried to make out what the dwarves were saying by their expressions or reading their lips, but what he saw didn’t make sense. Loni’s face had paled and her mouth was open in shock. Bifur looked angry, hefting his makeshift took up and waving it threateningly at the door. Bofur though, was staring at Bilbo, his expression filled with shock and dismay. Bilbo could only make out two words he said. Thorin and fight.

Suddenly, the ringing in his ears wasn’t entirely from the bells. Fear coursed through Bilbo like lightning on a stormy night.

“What is–” Reginard started to say, shifting up to his feet. When the hobbit set his hands on the rounded bed post to stable himself something clicked and all at once the foot of the bed rose and the headboard lifted up. An opening appeared in the wall and Bilbo squawked, arms flailing as the lifting bed forced both hobbits to slide backwards through the aperture. The dwarves yelled, their cries heard over the ringing of the bells as they reached for the hobbits.

Bilbo rolled, falling head over feet through the narrow exit and colliding into Reginard. He cracked his head against the wall and hissed in pain, curling up against his cousin. Together the two hobbits sprawled in a pile against hard stone, everything else around them too dark to make out.

“Reg? Bilbo?” Bofur’s voice said from a distance. “Are ya alright?”

Reginard groaned, shifting his foot into his cousin’s chin. “Fine! We’re fine,” Reg called back. “ _Maybe_ ,” he muttered, poking at Bilbo until the other hobbit grunted. “No one’s injured!”

“Speak for yourself,” Bilbo groused, massaging his temples. Wherever they were now, the ringing bells were a lot more inaudible in comparison to the chamber Náli had locked them in. It was a relief just to be able to hear himself think once again.

After untangling themselves the hobbits double checked that they were each uninjured. Bilbo kept elbowing the stone wall behind him and Reginard complained that he’d landed on something with sharp corners, but otherwise they were fine. They awkwardly crawled over each other, hands patting down the area around them and trying to distinguish where they were.

“Eru!” Bilbo yelled in frustration, hissing and holding his elbow as pain tingled up his arm. “What a bother! This is just the most unluckiest day ever. Once everything’s all settled, I’m going home and sleeping until it’s all over. You can tell Thorin he can be crowned without me, because as far as I’m concerned I’m finished with this awful day at this point.”

“I don’t blame you,” Reg said, clumsily situating them against the wall. “How about we just sit here and wait for the others to join us.”

Bilbo closed his eyes and nodded. “I agree. Not much we can do if we can’t even see where we are.”

“Everything alright down there?” Loni called out, the flames of her torch lighting the opening they’d fallen through.  It was high up towards the ceiling and thin, just large enough for a dwarf to slip through if they were lying down, but there was no way to get back up without a stepstool of some sort. “Master Bifur’s found some rope, so we’ll be down in a minute!”

Reginard elbowed his cousin. “Look,” he said, his voice resonating with wonder.

Bilbo cracked his eyes open and glared, though he could hardly see two inches in front of himself. “What? I can’t see anything but shadows.”

“No, look up.”

Bilbo did and what he saw surprised him. Above them was the twinkling light of tiny stars, splattered all along the ceiling and outlining the hallway to the right and left of them.  They extended down both ways from the hobbit’s location, glowing and pulsing at a tranquil pace. 

“What is that?” Bilbo asked, barely above a whisper. He’d never seen anything like it before. Who had ever heard of stars _in_ a Mountain?

“I dunno,” Reginard said. “It’s very pretty though.”

Bifur yelled something in Khuzdul and slid down to them, rolling gracefully to a stop at their feet. Bofur tossed him a torch, and with the sudden influx of light, the stars were revealed for what they really were.

Reg clutched at Bilbo’s arm. “Is that– Are those _worms?_ ”

Loni, who tumbled down after Bifur, swiped the dirt from her dress. Bifur kindly offered her a band of cloth he’d torn from his shirt to tie her hair back. She followed the hobbits’ gazes and smirked. “What? Oh, those. Glow worms.”

“ _Glow worms_?”

Thin strands of milky liquid hung from the ceiling in what had to be hundreds of pearly droplets. With the light from the torch revealing the world around them, the liquid sparkled like crystals jewels threaded with silver.  At the ends, clutching to the ceiling with their bodies oddly pulsing with light, were the worms. It was both beautiful and nauseating at the same time.

“That is really weird,” Reg commented, tearing his gaze away from the unusual creatures. “Worms. That glow.”

“No weirder than the fish without eyeballs or the translucent crabs,” Bofur chirped, jumping neatly down the trap door. “Cave creatures are a bit different looking than those from outside. They don’t taste much different though. Me mum can make this lovely cave salamander soup. Mmm, just thinking about it makes me hungry.”

Reginard put a hand over his mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“My mother once found a cave full of glowing mushrooms,” Loni commented casually.

“Really now?” Reginard looked eagerly down the narrow hall.

“They were poisonous, of course.” Loni tossed her finished braid over her shoulder. “One bite and she was sick for weeks.”

Reginard waved her off. “Pssh, dwarves eating mushrooms, I’m not surprised she was sick. But hobbits have a stomach for them, even the poisonous kind. For example, I once ate what I thought was my favorite chanterelle, but it was really a jack-o-lantern. I was fine except for some bad gas. Ginnar refused to sleep next to me in bed for two days it was so foul.” 

The dwarves laughed.

Bilbo picked himself up as Reginard and Loni discussed mushrooms. He dusted off his clothes, because though there really wasn’t much helping their state at this moment; he didn’t want to look any dirtier than he felt. Bifur held the torch over his head, muttering lightly in Khuzdul and checking Bilbo for injury.

“I’m fine,” Bilbo said, bowing his head so he wouldn’t have to look the dwarf in the eyes.

Bifur set a steady hand on his shoulder and didn’t comment.

“Oh! Do you notice?” Reg asked, looking around at them, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Notice what?”

“The bells,” Reginard said. “They’re no longer ringing.”

The dwarves’ expressions darkened and they grumbled to each other, scuffling their shoes against the floor and clinching their fists angrily.

Bilbo sighed weakly. “I suppose that means Thorin’s officially King now.” He really felt horrible about missing the coronation ceremony. Bilbo had wanted to be there, despite the morning argument they’d gotten in, because he knew how Thorin would take his absence. The dwarf probably thought Bilbo was upset with him and being petty by not showing. If only Thorin knew the truth.

“No! No,” Bofur said, looking surprised. “That was the warning bells. Erebor’s under attack!”

“ _What_?” The hobbits said in unison.

Bilbo felt his heart beat wildly and his mind blank out in shock. Had Master Náli started to exact his revenge? Had he already done it? Could Thorin be hurt, or worse, dead? Bilbo felt what little hope he had had to fix everything slip through his fingers like sand on a windy day. It didn’t seem fair that they’d finally found the secret passage out of the locked chamber and what little success they’d had would now be taken right out from under them.

“B-but that’s madness!” Bilbo stuttered, holding his hands to his chest. Thorin’s ring sat heavily on his finger, the warm metal a reminder of the dwarf he loved.

Reginard turned slowly to stare at Bilbo, his face blanched and expression pitying. “Náli would need an a-army though, wouldn’t he? To defeat Thorin? That’s the only way I can see him winning against the King.”

“Well now–” Bofur sputtered, looking between the hobbits wildly.

Bilbo stared hard at Reginard, knowing he probably looked wild and manic. “So you’re saying that not only do Thorin and I have to suffer the consequences of whatever revenge Master Náli has planned for us, but the whole Mountain too?”

 “Well…” Reginard paused, hesitant to answer.

Loni nibbled on her bottom lip furiously. “But someone would have noticed if an army was approaching.”

 “Aye, it’d be mighty hard to hide an army. But there’s not much I can say about what’s happening out there while being stuck in here.” Bofur shuffled close to Bilbo’s side and looked down at the disheartened hobbit with open remorse.  “It will be fine, laddie. At least ya were able to find the exit. Now we might be able get out and warn the others about who orchestrated all of this.”

“Yeah,” Bilbo said softly. He felt like his heart had been through too much today to feel anything else but dread at this point. He just stared at his feet, mulishly thinking about the damned anklets he wore for the dwarf King even though he furiously disliked them. Everything felt wasted now. It would have been better off if he’d never thrown that apple at Thorin on that hilltop. Maybe if they’d never met, Náli would never have sought revenge against either of them, or dragged the whole Kingdom into his plot.

It hurt to acknowledge it, but Erebor would have been better off if Thorin hadn’t rested under Bilbo’s tree.

“We’ll find out what’s happened,” Bofur continued, putting an arm around the hobbit and shaking him. “Don’t lose hope. For all we know, the bells were a warning and Náli’s been discovered? I bet this very moment Thorin is locking him up in the dungeon.”

Bilbo nodded listlessly. The others continued to talk over him, barking out instructions and negotiating how to get out. Eventually, with Bofur’s arm around him, Bilbo was forced to follow along after them down the hallway. His gaze never wavered from his feet.

“Dead end!” Loni called out, knocking the stone wall at the end of the hall with her fist.

Bifur swore in Khuzdul, turned, and headed back the way they came.

Bilbo tore his eyes away from the ground and up at the wall in front of him, noticing something odd the others hadn’t. As he took a step forward to touch it, there was a deep rumble in the Mountain below them, almost like the Mountain was laughing at them.

“What was _that_?” Loni asked Bofur, stumbling into the wall.

“That? I dunno,” Bofur answered, eyes wide with fright as he looked back down the hallway towards Bifur.

Reginard lurched towards them. “Could it have been the armies fighting?”

“Aye, could be.” But Bofur didn’t look convinced.

Bilbo shook off the alarm creeping up on him and crouched near the wall. The stone was black and unblemished except for an odd dusting of dirt that ran in a perfectly straight line from the floor to the ceiling. He stared for a moment while Reginard and Bofur talked over his head about cave in and dragons, his finger tracing the line and wiping away the cobwebs.

Bofur reached for Bilbo, tugging on the hobbits arm when the others started following after Bifur.

“Come on Bilbo, there’s nothing there.”

Bilbo yanked his arm back, his gaze never wavering from what he’d found.

“What’s wrong?” The dwarf asked, bending his knees a bit so he could look at Bilbo properly.

Pointing, Bilbo’s traced the chalky outline. It went up in a rectangular outline, the top just brushing against an odd square carving of the sun’s rays set in the stone. If one looked at it from a certain angle, it looked like a chalk outline of a door.

“Huh?” Bofur followed his gesture, stepping forward until his nose was almost pressed against the stone. “Why… it’s a _door!_ Bifur, come see this! Bilbo found the door!”

“A door!” Reginard yelled, bouncing back over to them. “You’re a genius, Bilbo! Eru, this is so amazing! I can’t wait to be out of here.”

As if Bilbo’s touch had awakened it, the faint lines started to glow. Bright silver and shining like the moon, they flew upwards from the floor towards the ceiling, lighting up the carving in a magical spectacle. Even Bilbo gasped in awe at the beauty of it, stepping back so he could get a good view of it all. He stared up in wonder as the door slowly creaked open. Light from the setting sun outside spilled in, piercing the darkness of the tunnel. Bilbo held a hand over his eyes, trying to squint through the brightness to see what, or who, was on the other side.

“Hahaa! Like I said!” Thráin laughed joyfully, the sun behind him turning his white hair gold. “When the thrush knocks on the last sunset of Durin’s Day. Not much riddle to it really. In fact very forthcoming for any dwarf, I would wager. ”

“So you did, my friend, so you did.” A familiar voice said, his presence flooding Bilbo with hope as his wide brimmed grey hat filled up the entry way. “It seems you’ve found what has been lost.”

“What?” Thráin whipped around, startled by the company standing just inside the doorway. “What’s this now?”

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I’ve always wondered if getting out of the Mountain through the secret door was a lot easier than getting into it. If Thror and Thráin really had escaped through the secret tunnel, I very much doubt it was on Durin’s day and that specific time and such. I’m sort of going with the whole, the door on the outside appears at that time, but the same is not in the reverse. 
> 
> Quotes: ” Rest your shields, lean on stones, listen and always remember, long are the arms and legs of men, yet still longer, the Dwarven members!”, “Cave-toads speak little, but when they do, listen”, and “Leave iron to rest before you hammer it”. I got both from: http://strolen.com/guild/index.php?topic=6019.0 which I’m seriously sure isn’t for Tolkien dwarves in reference but they were oddly adept. 
> 
> Translation: Ishuke- Lesser Craven (coward)


	40. Crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf is full of surprises and Bilbo works out a plan to save Thorin.

******

“Gandalf,” Bilbo said, relief pouring through him at the sight of the wizard. He slumped against the doorway and breathed deeply, letting the cool air caress his skin as the waning light from the setting sun disappeared behind the horizon. After a moment of taking in his newfound freedom he opened his eyes and smiled at the wizard. “I’ve never been so happy to see somebody in my life.”

“Awfully kind of you to say so, my boy.” The wizard leaned against his staff and winked at them. “And what a fine day it is for exploring, wouldn’t you say? Thráin and myself had taken up the activity ourselves and I’m finding it quite delightful.”

The dwarf King whirled on Gandalf and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Oh ho! So you are having fun! You were just fussing at me two seconds ago about having to climb that dratted statue, complaining about your back and bad knees.”

“Well,” Gandalf huffed, wrinkling his nose up in displeasure. “If the walkway wasn’t dwarf-sized I wouldn’t have complained. I kept knocking my head against the stones.”

“If you were proper size that wouldn’t have been an issue,” Thráin retorted, waging a finger at the wizard.

Before the two could get into an argument, Bilbo tripped out into the open air and stumbled towards Gandalf. The wizard raised a hand to ward off Thráin’s comments, concern crinkling his brow as he looked down at the dirty hobbit with such kindness Bilbo felt a warmth of fondness bloom in his chest for his mother’s dear old friend. Bilbo had to temper the sudden urge to hug the tall wizard, until he caught sight of the crown on Thráin’s head and remembered why he’d been locked up in the abandoned chamber in the first place.

“…Thorin?” he asked, his voice thick with worry.

Gandalf wrinkled his nose. “What about him?”

“Is he alright?” Bilbo asked, his hands trembling in anxiety. The suspense of not knowing if his dwarf was alive and well was still a major concern despite their freed state at the moment. What could Bilbo do to help Thorin if he was inside the Mountain and the hobbit was outside it? If Náli had somehow locked all the doors into the Kingdom, it would be hard enough getting back in to stop the Councilman before he could enact his devious plans.

As the wizard opened his mouth to answer, a quizzical expression on his face that did not speak well for Bilbo’s situation, Reginard rushed out of the tunnel and up to the two of them. “Did he say anything about the attack? We heard the warning bells!” Reg looked between Bilbo and the wizard. “ _Is_ Erebor still under attack? Does he know if anything’s happened to Ginnar?”

Thráin sputtered, “ _Attack?_ ”

“Yer Majesty,” Bofur said, tipping his hat to the old King. “We did hear the warning bells signaling an assault on Erebor, like Mister Reginard said. We thought his Lordship Náli had gathered an army and attacked during the ceremony, but it seems awfully quiet if there’s a war going on.”

Gandalf started coughing and took a few steps back so he didn’t do so in the hobbits’ faces. The wizard then looked off over the side of the ledge, as if to see for himself if an army was marching towards them or not. Bilbo followed his gaze, and while it was near night, there’s was still some light to see by. The statue of the dwarf guardians did block some of the hobbit’s view of the front gates, but Bilbo could see what looked like a stream of tiny figures casually going into the Mountain. Everything looked perfectly normal, though Bilbo knew that couldn’t be. There was no sign of swords or armor on any of the figures, though a few tiny figures did seem to be pushing what looked like pipe-weed barrels and maybe one figure held a pitchfork, which again wasn’t _too_ unusual if it had been a normal market day.

Bilbo felt the tight knot of anxiety in his chest unwind and an odd curiosity take its place.

Maybe he’d been right and the dwarves wrong. The bells could possibly have been ringing for Thorin’s coronation and not an attack on Erebor. Maybe Náli had decided to bide his time and simply wait till after the celebrations, for a moment when everyone else was asleep, before confronting Thorin? To Bilbo it seemed to be a smarter option, though the hobbit would admit he wasn’t one for dastardly deeds or thinking up horrendous plots against the Kingdom.

“Mister Gandalf?” Reg pleaded. “Is everything all right?”

Gandalf just tapped his chin and looked out at the distant horizon.

“Was Thorin crowned? Does Erebor stand unconquered?” Bilbo probed, his curiosity making him unable to not ask. He felt lighter with anticipation, hope coursing through him that maybe there was still time to prevent anything from even happening.

When Gandalf seemed reluctant to answer their desperate inquires, Thráin did instead, huffing and puffing as if the very idea of someone attacking Erebor was a personal insult. “War? I have to say neither of us knows much of what you all are talking about. There’s been no attack on Erebor. The gates are impenetrable and it would take a larger army than anyone could hide to face the might of the dwarves of Durin. My boys can hold any enemy off, even a dragon if need be.”

“Now, now,” Gandalf said, shaking himself out of his daze and turning to admonish the old King. “There’s no reason to go invoking things such as dragons. Bilbo has a right to inquire about Thorin. We heard the bells just like they did. It was rather hard to miss when it was right over our heads. They were scheduled to ring at dusk as per the new King’s orders. But it’s been quiet since, almost too quiet for a celebration.”

“There was a party? Who for and why wasn’t I invited?” Thráin asked, putting his hands on his hips and pouting.

Gandalf sighed and turned his attention to Bilbo. “I must ask, whatever were you doing in that tunnel, Bilbo? Why are you not at Thorin’s side?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to explain,” Reginard said, leaning over Bilbo’s shoulder and shouting before the other hobbit could respond. “We were betrayed, or Bilbo was, by the Councilman Náli! He said he was leading us a special way to get to the seating King Thorin assigned for Bilbo, but really he was leading us off to an deserted tunnel and locking us up in an abandoned room. We ran into Bofur and Bifur on the way and nearly foiled Náli’s plan but he pulled a knife on Bilbo and we were forced to do what he wanted. He threatened to come back and do horrible things to Bilbo once he dealt with His Majesty.”

“Well,” Gandalf blinked in surprise, taken aback by all the information Reg had unloaded on him. “That is a problem.”

“Sire,” Loni stepped forward, dusting dirt and grime off her skirt as she looked towards Thráin. “I don’t mean to speak against you, but Erebor is in danger. I saw it myself, there were strange guards posted about the Mountain that Master Náli said he hired himself. I don’t doubt the might of Durin, but the enemy is already within the Mountain before anyone was aware there was even an adversary to watch out for.”

Loni’s words seemed to awake something in Thráin and a lucid clarity came back into his eyes that gave Bilbo hope the old King would help them. “Strange guards, you say?”

“Aye,” Bofur said, stepping up next to the dwarf maid. “I saw a few myself, though they stuck mostly to the shadows. My cousin, Bifur, he’ll back me up on it.”

The old King tugged at his beard, eyeing the dwarves cautiously before him. “Hmm, Lord Náli, I remember him. Beard in a cork screw style, nothing like his father’s. His father had some imaginative proposals towards wind turbines for the upper reaches. Genius man. Sad day when he passed.”

“Yes,” Loni breathed, her expression one of open relief and optimism. The spark of hope that grew in Bilbo’s chest alighted into a blaze and the hobbit felt himself smile for what felt like the first time in _days_.

Thráin nodded, as if remembering something from long ago. “I never thought someone would dare challenge the line of Durin, but I have heard complaints before from this Lord Náli. I remember when he first joined the Council, he’d just grown into his beard then, and he was mostly upset with how I handled business with the halflings when I was buying land for the warriors to train outside the Mountain. He made a threat and was suspended from the Council for a few years afterward.”

“And you did not think to take him seriously?” Gandalf asked, surprise making his thick eyebrows jump up his forehead and disappear beneath his hat.

Thráin waved the wizard’s concern off. “He did not threaten _me_.”

“Then,” Bilbo paused, dread creeping up his spine. “Then who was the threat towards?”

“The halflings,” Thráin said casually. “He thought we should just take the land, as it was ours to begin with and it is part of the Mountain. Silly idea, really. The Men of Dale and the elves of Mirkwood would see it as an attack on the halfling settlement and no doubt it would ruin peace between us all. The halflings are quite a peaceful bunch and they make the best pies. I wouldn’t want to make them my enemy just for a few acres of land. Then Náli offered the suggestion of enslavement, which is just barbarous. We are _dwarves_ , not orcs!”  

“Enslavement?” Reginard squeaked, stumbling back and tripping over his own feet to land on his bum near the edge of the cliff. He scrambled back to the wall and clung tightly to the helmet of the large stone dwarf.

Gandalf crowded Thráin, anger making him seem taller than he already was as the shadows grew around him as he loomed over the old dwarf King.

“You would set someone who had made such a malicious suggestion in a position of power in your Kingdom? Are you an insane fool or has your illness taken more than just your mind from you, Thráin, son of Thror? If one hobbit has been hurt on this night, I will call a dragon to this very Mountain to devour you myself.” Even the night sky appeared to be possessed by whatever fury had taken over the wizard as they turned black and stormy. The wind picked up and whipped at their loose clothing and a bit of rain sprinkled from the heavens. Bifur was forced to step under part of an overhang or lose the torch light to the elements. The other shivered as the air howled with anger around them.

“They are j-just hobbits,” Thráin stuttered. “No reason to get so angry.”

“ _Just_ hobbits?”

The power in the wizard’s words seemed to echo throughout the Mountain and a stillness grew in the air that was almost suffocating, the space around them filled with a silence similar to that that came before lightning struck. Bilbo felt hollowed out and emptied by Thráin’s words. It should have been a sign, that something wasn’t right with Master Náli if he was suggesting enslaving a race that had never harmed another in all their history on Middle-Earth. It was more than barbarous, it was _evil_. No sensible King would appoint someone with such notions to a Council that helped ruled his Kingdom.

To think, for so long the hobbits of the Shire had been blissfully unaware of the danger they’d been in, going about their business and never minding the happenings in the Mountain as someone stewed in wait to seek revenge against them. Once everything was over with and Náli dealt with, Bilbo would talk to the Thain and Thorin about somehow working in a hobbit representative into the Council or a formal legislative arrangement between the two races. It seemed so ignorant of the hobbits to let the dwarves have so much power over them while there was no way to defend themselves.

“You w-were the o-one that suggested I put him back on the Council,” Thráin gibbered, pointing a trembling finger at Gandalf.

“I did no such thing!”

King Thráin seemed to deteriorate before them, the lucidity leaving just as quickly as it had appeared. His failing mind manifested itself physically as his hair got mangled up because he’d started constantly pulling on it. Sweat was breaking out across his skin as his eyes turned glassy with confusion. “It was one of you wizards! Always whispering in my ear and sending me letters to complain about how I’m ruling! You try it yourself for a day, see how difficult it is to run a Kingdom as great as Erebor and make everybody happy! It’s impossible! The stress is maddening!”

When the old King stumbled back, Bifur stepped forward to steady him, holding onto Thráin’s arm and keeping him from walking right off the cliff’s edge. Bifur said something in Khuzdul that appeared to calm the older dwarf and soon the two were discussing something that seemed miles away from the conversation Gandalf had just been having with Thráin, smiling and happy like it was an ordinary day. For all appearances, it was like the rest of them were no longer there in Thráin’s mind.

“I am sorry, Bilbo,” Gandalf apologized, shaking his head as the shadows receded and the stormy weather calmed. “I should have known something like this might happen years ago. Thráin has not been in his right mind to rule for a very long time. If I had been wiser, I would have suggested Thorin taking the throne long before any of this mess could have come about. I owe you my deepest apologies.”

 Bilbo nodded, staring up at the wizard as his heart clenched at the thought. “But…”

Gandalf raised a curious eyebrow.

“But I wouldn’t have met him,” Bilbo continued, thinking back on how things would have been different. “Thorin, I mean. If he’d been King, we never would have met like we did, never would have had the time to learn one another without his duties getting in the way. He would have been too busy to entertain a silly hobbit like me and I never would have been brazen enough to imagine I was good enough for a _King_. I was hard enough convincing myself to continue our courtship when he was just a Prince.”

“Bilbo,” Gandalf tried to fight a smile. “You forget you are more than worthy of the greatest Kings in Middle-Earth. I’m sure even as a ruling King, Thorin would have found time for you. You should have more faith in yourself.”

Bilbo felt his cheeks burn as Gandalf echoed Galadriel’s words, reminding him of the beautiful elf’s statement about the love between Thorin and him. Like the moon peeking out from behind the thick rain clouds, something rose up in the hobbit and he felt more than ever ready to confront the dwarf who’d threatened to harm his people and Thorin. “Yes, well, I’m glad you say so. But let us not forget the matter at hand. Thorin is in danger and so is the Shire from the sound of it and none of us know what is happening in the Mountain right now.”

“You are right about that,” Gandalf muttered, looking back towards the gates.

“How’d you two get up this way anyhow?” Bofur asked, holding his hat tightly to his head as he peered over the ledge. “Is there another secret passage or did ya use your wizarding magic and fly up?”

Gandalf laughed and hit his staff against the wall. “No. Goodness no. There’s a stairway, there.” He pointed towards the giant dwarf statue and the odd triangular shapes carved into the figure’s cloak. If one looked hard enough, and particularly from their current angle, it was very conspicuously stair shaped to be of the customary design. “Pretty clever of you dwarves to hide it in plain sight, I’ve never noticed it before on my visits.”

Bofur gave the wizard a smirk like he’d be the one to suggest how to hide the staircase. “So we’ll head back down that way and surprise that foul dwarf and his minions at the front gates. He won’t expect it, probably will cause quite the scene, and it will be reasonably dramatic.” Bofur tugged at his mustache in smug elation. “I like it.”

Reginard paled at the prospect of climbing down the giant statue in the open air and Bilbo couldn’t say he blamed him. It didn’t seem like a very safe way to travel, especially going _down_. The wind had picked up since the abnormal storm had come about and it was much too dark to see any damage done to the old stairs in detail.

“I think… I think I’ll just stay up here. In case someone comes looking for us this way,” Reginard said. He gave Bilbo a wide eyed stare, as if to implore his cousin to allow him to stay without argument.

“But what if it’s Náli who comes?” Bilbo asked, kneeling down beside the other hobbit and holding his hands. “We should stay together. We don’t know what danger lies ahead of us.”

“Wise words, my boy,” Gandalf said, swooping towards them and blocking off the howling wind.

Bilbo had to push his loosening braid back behind his ear to see the tall wizard. “Hobbits don’t do well with heights I’m afraid and it is dark. Can we make it safely down?”

Gandalf brandished a coil of elven rope from his satchel like he’d been prepared for this very moment.

“Ah,” Bilbo breathed, blinking in wonder at how the fates worked. How very convenient a wizard would be waiting on the other side of a hidden door with the missing Thráin and a bit of elvish rope to help them down. It seemed the fortunes had turned in Bilbo’s favor for once.

After offering to lead the pack of them down the side of the Mountain, Bofur helped tie Reginard and Bilbo to the rope so they formed a train and wouldn’t slip off if they stepped on a crumbling stair. Loni slapped the other dwarf’s hands away when he tried to assist her, glaring at Bofur when he laughed. Bifur and Thráin demanded to go down on their own like real dwarves. Gandalf stated he would stay at the hidden entrance and maybe explore where the tunnel led into the Mountain, which caused Bilbo to cry out.

“But we’ll need you there!”

Gandalf casually pulled out his pipe and lit it with his thumb. “Of course you won’t, my boy. You six will be perfectly able to siege the Mountain on your own.”

“But you agreed,” Bilbo said, staring up at the dwarf as Reginard tugged on the rope to test its stability. “You agreed with me that we shouldn’t split up.”

“Nor should you,” Gandalf said, puffing out a smoke ring. “Stay together and stay on the road.”

“What road?” Reginard asked.

“The main road!” Gandalf shouted, abruptly impatient with all of them. “Stay on the main road and it will lead you right to the throne room. It’s a perfectly straight line and hard to miss. If you wander off, it’s your own fault if you get caught by any fowl underlings. Honestly, it is not like you are walking into Mordor.”

Reg gulped loudly and shared an alarmed expression with Bilbo. “Right. If you say so.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Loni said softly, pulling the hobbits forward.

With one last goodbye to the grey wizard, everyone shuffled towards the carved stairway. It wasn’t a terrible journey down, though Reginard slipped twice and would have undoubtedly fallen to his death if the rope hadn’t caught him. The rocks were steady and the structure sound, even with the cracks all about the statue and bits of the edge crumbling under their feet in mossy flakes. Bofur whistled a jaunty tune that lost itself in the howling wind and Thráin grumbled good-naturedly behind Bilbo about Thorin throwing a party and not informing his parents of it. Bilbo listened with half an ear, fighting back the delirious smile when Thráin broke into a story about a young Frerin sneaking off in the middle of the night to attend a fertility festival in Dale and then somehow dragging half the party back to his room that night. It turned out the young Thorin had had a vicious sibling rivalry with his brother and Frerin’s party had only convinced Thorin to throw one of his own, more spectacular than his brother’s and earning himself a whole three months in the stables shoveling manure as consequence when Thráin had found out about it.

Bilbo knew in his heart he’d already forgiven the old dwarf King for his fickleness towards the Shire, but in his mind he knew to still be wary. Either by Eru’s will, simple luck, or some other dwarf’s motivation, the hobbits had been safe from Náli for however long he’d been appointed to the Council. While Thráin didn’t seem outwardly prejudiced against the hobbits, he also didn’t seem to _care_ too much about them either. Luckily for Bilbo, and possibly the Shire at whole, Thorin didn’t seem to share his father’s narrow-mindedness at all. Bilbo felt an alarming thrill travel through him at the thought of Náli making the same suggestion to Thorin that he made to Thráin, and what Thorin would have done to the dwarf in reply.

The hobbit paused for a moment to be horrified with himself, wondering where the unhobbit-like cruelty had come from. Even after all that Náli had done, Bilbo did not wish the traitor death. He did want Náli to answer for his crimes, but Bilbo could not reason with himself a proper punishment for the dwarf. It would have to be something for Thorin to decide.

 “Almost there,” Bofur called out, helping Reg hop down to the last landing. Bilbo shook himself from his musing and concentrated at the course at hand. He would think about Náli’s punishment once the dwarf was confronted and Bilbo knew Thorin was alright. No use counting his chickens before they’d hatched.

“Thank Eru,” Reginard said, waiting for Bilbo to jump down after him. “I’m going to hug Gin so tightly after this. I’m never going to let him out of my sight again.”

“Same here,” Bilbo sighed, then thought about what he was agreeing to and blushed as he sputtered. “Well, not Ginnar, I mean! Thorin. I’m going to hug Thorin.”

Reginard gave his cousin a teasing smile. His coloring had returned the closer to the ground they’d gotten. “Well, you can hug Gin too if you want. It might make His Majesty jealous, but a possessive dwarf more than makes up for it in the bedroom.”

“Oi!” Bofur shouted at them. “Pipe down! No talking about Thorin’s bed skills. There are some things a subject just doesn’t want to know about his King.”

“What about Kings? I’m right here if you have something to say,” Thráin bellowed, startling a flock of thrushes from a nearby tree. Though the gates were wide open, they hadn’t seen movement around it since they’d gotten halfway down the staircase. Bilbo worried about what the quiet meant and if there were guards just waiting inside the doors to grab them. It wouldn’t do to give themselves away before they could use their one advantage against Náli.

“Shh!” Bilbo gestured for the others to keep quiet as Bofur stepped onto the grassy earth. Loni was next and then Reginard, both quickly untying themselves from the elvish rope easily. Bilbo had never been so happy in his life to have grass between his toes and if he wasn’t still worried about Thorin he’d take a moment to thank Yavanna for all her creations and being back on solid earth.

Once Bifur, the last of their group, was back on solid ground, the six of them converged in a huddle to discuss what to do next.

“I say we charge them.”

Bifur made a motion with his hands that had Loni groaning in disbelief.

“No! That’s an awful plan. We should be sneaky, creeping in the shadows.”

“Like the Star Thief,” Reg said suddenly, earning a few odd looks. “From the books? The popular series about the dwarf thief who steals from the great Elvenkings of old? Have none of you read the newest novel?”

Thráin pointedly fixed his crown and gave Reg a look out of his one eye that could only be called snooty. “ _I’m_ not a thief and the Mountain is _my_ Kingdom. I will not go sneaking into it like some _burglar_.”

“I’m afraid in this case ya will,” Bofur said, plucking the crown right off Thráin’s head and giving it to Bifur to stuff in his pockets. “Nothing shiny. Don’t want to give yourselves away. Put the fire out too.”

While Bifur smothered the torch in the sand, Bilbo glanced down at his tunic and noted the mithril shirt was still not visible. He was thankful he wouldn’t have to take it off, not only because he didn’t want to lose the lovely courting gift Thorin had given him, but it might prove useful in they were going into a dangerous situation.

“Alright, everyone ready,” Bofur looked each one of them in the eyes. “Now, we need to be quiet, step lightly, and we’ll communicate with Inglishmék.”

“But I don’t know Inglishmék!” Bilbo whispered loudly and then turned towards Reginard. “Do you know it?”

“A little,” the other hobbit admitted, blushing at the stern look the old King gave him. “Ginnar’s been teaching me some so I can communicate with the shop keepers. He was worried I was being cheated out of good money because I couldn’t tell if they were swindling me or not. A baker once tried to sell me a loaf for a whole silver penny.”

Loni sputtered, “A _whole_ silver penny! That’s robbery!”

Bofur set a heavy hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and drew the hobbits attention away from the alarming conversation going on with Reginard and the dwarves about the dwarf merchant’s treatment of hobbits. “It’s fine if you don’t understand. It’s just basic stuff, you’ll pick it up quickly. Just copy what we do. Walk when we walk and stop when we stop. Easy enough.”

“If you say so,” Bilbo said, grunting when Bofur slapped his back in agreement.

Bofur got everyone’s attention back to the task at hand, gesturing wildly at Bifur until they were in some semblance of order and ready to go. They crept along the edge of the Mountain, staying in the shadows and trying their best to avoid the lamp lights. Two crows in a nearby tree watched them with beady eyes, but they were normal crows and not like Roäc and his ilk, so Bilbo wasn’t too worried they’d sound an alarm. Besides the quiet whispers of the wind through the grass, it was completely silent at the entrance to Erebor. The large golden gates opened just enough for five hobbits, shoulder to shoulder, to pass through unhindered. The doors were imposing and striking in their silent vigil to guard Erebor against an enemy. 

It was disconcerting and foreboding how still everything was.

“Alright,” Bofur said, crouching beside the entrance and urging the others to pause. “I think we should wait here until a guard passes, hit them over the head, and then interrogate them. It might get gruesome, so I reckon the hobbits might not want to watch.”

“What?” Loni put her hands on her hips and glared. “What if it’s one of Erebor’ s guards? You going to interrogate them to?”

“We will if we have to,” Bofur shrugged, but his smirk possibly meant he was teasing. Bifur put a comforting hand on the dwarf maid’s arm and said something in Khuzdul that made her calm down.

“Oh,” she said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she blushed. “That’s very kind of you Master Bifur, but I’m not a _Lady_ , not in that sense anyhow, but it’s nice of you to say so. My family’s of common blood.”

Bifur again said something that had Loni turning as pink as a strawberry and Bofur raising his eyebrow at his cousin in surprise.

Bilbo peeked around one of the doors and quickly glanced down the long hallway that eventually led to the throne room and coronation ceremony. There wasn’t a single guard about, the tunnels and chambers abandoned except for two small dogs sniffing at an empty barrel. His confusion over the situation made him relax some and Bilbo stepped into the Mountain before Reginard could pull him back into the shadows.

“There’s no one there,” Bilbo said, his tone normal as he stood in the middle of the road. “It’s empty, like they all disappeared.”

Thráin stumbled forward and bumped into the hobbit. “How very peculiar. It must be fairy magic!”

Bilbo shook his head. “I don’t think it’s any sort of magic. It doesn’t feel like it at least.”

“Hobbits can feel magic?” Thráin asked, cocking his head to the side like Thorin sometimes did when Bilbo did something he found amusing. “You halflings are a surprising race.”

“That we are.” Smiling softly at the old dwarf, Bilbo put a hand around Thráin’s wrist and led him forward. The fire in Bilbo grew and a boldness rose up in him that he had to go _now_ or he’d waste his time waiting for something to happen. It seemed so easy to get to the doors that would lead him to Thorin and walk through them. All Bilbo had to do was walk. “Let’s go. No use standing around waiting for something to happen. I think we should confront it head on, like you said.”

Thráin laughed in delight, the sound of it echoing through the tunnels and startling the two dogs who shuffled away quickly. Bofur groaned aloud, tugging his hat down over his nose and muttering about hobbits who wander into misfortune.  

“B-but Bilbo!” Reginard squeaked, tip-toeing after them as Loni and Bifur grabbed some abandoned tools to be used as weapons. Bofur rolled his eyes in exasperation before hurrying after them, stopping for a moment to accept the wooden pole from Bifur and test its weight in his hands. Now, with makeshift weapons and a barrel lid for a shield, the dwarves seemed a bit more ready to confront whatever lay ahead of them.

“I’m sorry, but the delay was making it worse. I’m tired of cautiously sitting around and waiting for trouble to find me. I’m going to confront Náli head on!” Bilbo shouted over his shoulder, his feet picking up speed and the sound of the anklets ringing like bells against the stone floor. “I want to find Thorin. I need to make sure he’s alright.”

“Thorin? What’s happening with Thorin?” Thráin asked, blinking wildly at Bilbo.

“It’s a long story,” Bilbo reassured the older dwarf. “I promise to explain it all again when everything’s settled. But first, let’s make sure he’s alright before Master Náli’s betrays him.”

Thráin squinted at him through his one good eye. “That dwarf again. Is he planning something against my son?”

Bilbo almost tripped over his own feet. “Well, yes. Náli’s upset that Thorin and I plan to marry, and he plans to do anything in his power to prevent it, even hurt us.”

“Thorin is getting married?” Thráin asked in wonder, a pleased smile breaking out across his face and making him look years younger.

“Yes,” Bilbo admitted, coming to a stop before the last doors to the throne room. “King Thráin, I love your son very much and I’ll do anything I can to protect him. I promise.”

The older dwarf looked the hobbit over fondly. “Thorin is a lucky dwarf, then.”

“T-thank you,” Bilbo said, his heart feeling like it might beat out of his chest. He turned towards the last set of doors that stood between him and Thorin and straightened his spine. He would be brave and courageous. Whatever was on the other side of the doors, Bilbo would confront it for Thorin’s sake.

Bilbo and Thráin burst through the doors with a loud clanging, knocking an old set of armor off the wall and hitting a pile of swords and spears laid at the back of the chamber. The others charged in after them, weapons at the ready and roaring in Khuzdul, prepared to defend Bilbo and Thráin against whatever lay before them.

Except…  there was no one to confront.

The throne room was dark, which wasn’t unusual exactly, and the only thing the hobbit could see beside the backs of the crowd was the large green and gold stalactite hanging down over the seat of the King. There was a throng of elves, men, and dwarves crowding forward that made it impossible to see what was going on and they all leaned against the railing trying to see the commotion happening on the slender walkway over the atrium. There were no guards or strange dwarves waiting for them, in fact their entrance had gone wholly unnoticed. Whatever was happening in the middle of the throne room had the crowd’s complete attention.

Bilbo pushed against them, trying to make his way through them, and was forced back when one Man shook him off and back to where he started. He tried to step around some others, but one Lady’s dress was so large you could fit a whole family of hobbits under it and still have room to move comfortably. The elves were so tightly packed together it was a wonder they could even breathe. Panic started to take hold of Bilbo and he grew desperate to get to Thorin, tugging rudely at shirttails and pushing at the tall folks’ backs to get through them. No one budged and Bilbo was about to find another way around them through a different entrance when Thráin tugged at his wrist.

“Stay on the road,” hissed Reginard, pointing at the floor. “Remember what Gandalf said.”

“ _Wizards_ ,” Bilbo grumbled, becoming angry that he could be so close to Thorin but still unable to see what was happening. The main walkway was the most crowded, filled with tall folk pressed up against each other and wearing overly extravagant clothes. Bilbo couldn’t even crawl under their legs to get past them. The hobbit stomped his foot and tried to think of an easy way to get through the horde of them without leaving the road. Then, looking their small group over, an idea came to him. “Thráin, I need your help.”

The old dwarf smoothed out his beard proudly. “Of course.”

“Bifur, Bofur,” Bilbo motioned them forward. “I need your weapons.”

“Uh, of course?” Bofur tried to hand Bilbo his staff, but the hobbit shook his head.

“No, I need you to knock a few heads for me.”

“Aye!” Bifur and Bofur shared a mischievous smile. “That we can do.”

Bilbo nodded and pointed at the backside of the crowd. “Draw their attention. Make it so they have to turn around to see who’s behind them. Once they catch sight of Thráin, they’ll move out of the way. Loni, you stand guard at the rear the King, in case one of Náli’s henchmen comes up from behind. Reg, I’ll need you to be on lookout. Thráin and I will head straight for the throne and Thorin, so if Náli’s hiding, I’ll need you to keep us from getting distracted from the real danger.”

The others all nodded in agreement with the plan. Bofur twilled his staff around his hands, either testing it or showing off, while Bifur said something softly to Loni that had her turning pink again and smiling. Bilbo didn’t care, just as long as they got to where he wanted without tipping things back into Náli’s favor. If Gandalf had been with them, things might have been easier, but Bilbo would do what he had to.

“Thráin’s crown,” Bilbo requested, holding his hand out to Bifur.

Bifur tugged the garishly golden crown out of his pocket and handed it over. Bilbo turned on his heels and carefully placed it on Thráin’s brow.

“Good.” Bilbo tried to straighten his damaged clothes. He knew he looked a mess, but maybe once Thorin caught sight of him he’d understand the urgency of their situation. “Now, let’s go!”

Bofur and Bifur surged forward with their staffs, knocking the outer ring of the crowd over the head and poking a few in the back. The tall folk turned around, a snarl ready on their lips when they caught sight of King Thráin striding regally forward. Thráin walked as if the crowd wasn’t even there and the imperial atmosphere around the old King only seemed to send the crowd into tittering awe of him. Bilbo had to walk quickly to keep up as the people stepped back for them, whispers and shouts going out at the sight of the old dwarf.

“ _It’s King Thráin!”_

“ _King Thráin’s alive_!”

“ _Long live the line of Durin_!”

As the crowd swiftly parted for them, the throne started to come into view. The narrow walkway had a few dwarves along the edges, most in ceremonial armor or rich clothes, the Lords and Ladies of Erebor. But the oddest sight of all though was the hobbits. There were hundreds of them! Possibly every inhabitant in the Shire was in the Mountain and standing on the thin walkway before the throne.

“ _Bilbo_!” Someone cried out, causing the hobbit in question to startle and Thráin to reach out and take his hand again. Bilbo wasn’t quite sure, but that had sounded like Robin Goold? He looked around wildly, brows furrow in confusion. He had expected to see Nali’s guards, not hobbits.

“ _Someone tell Lobelia! Bilbo Baggins is alive_!”

Both Bilbo and Thráin paused as a swarm of hobbits and dwarves came at them, all of them talking at once and shouting over each other to be heard. Bifur and Bofur did their best to hold them off, but the crowd was just too numerous. Even Loni was overwhelmed by them, squeaking and apologizing profusely when she bumped into them from behind, fending off hands that extended out to touch them and battling one pushy dwarf away when he reached out to tug Bilbo’s cloak. Reginard was lost in the throng of happy congregation, disappearing too quickly for anybody to help him, but no one was overly worried. Bilbo was just thankful the crowd appeared glad to see them.

It was just the strangest thing. He’d been expecting a fight, maybe a confrontation at best, not this hearty celebration at their appearance.

“What’s going on? Where’s Thorin? Where is my son?” Thráin roared. The hobbits and dwarves froze, some turning to glance behind them furtively at the throne.

“Your Majesty,” one dwarf noble bowed to the old King, his beard dragging on the floor. “Pardon us all. There’s been so much confusion. We’ve just been informed of the story of yours and Mister Baggins’ death. And the hobbits–”

“Well the story of my death has greatly been exaggerated,” Thráin mumbled, tugging Bilbo along with him forward. “Move out of my way! I am King Thráin, son of King Thror and father of Prince Thorin, and I will not have you lot overcrowding me or my future son-in-law over the ledges. Move it! I must see Thorin right away!”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” The dwarf Lord hollered for people to get into order. The hobbits mulishly did as asked, each trying to say something to Bilbo over the buzz of the commotion they’d caused but Bilbo’s ears rang with an odd buzzing sound and he couldn’t make out a single word said to him. It was like everything was moving in slow motion. He saw Donnamira Took and Dudo Baggins, their mouths moving slowly as he passed but no discernible sound coming out. As Thráin and Bilbo glided past Rudibert Bolger, the hobbit reached out and grabbed Bilbo’s shoulder, but was jerked back by Loni and lost into the crowd before he could say something. Bilbo looked around, head spinning as confusion over what they walked into warred with the concern he’d built up since Náli locked them away.

Nothing was making sense.

“This is… I don’t…” Bilbo swallowed thickly, trying to shake off his bewilderment as his head spun with more questions than answers. This was not what he had expected when he snuck back into Erebor. This was not at _all_ what he was prepared for.

A clear passage was made for them and up ahead Bilbo could see the one person he’d struggled to see all day. Pale, blue-grey eyes met his and it was like the world settled back on its axis, time returned to normal and Bilbo could feel the earth stabilize under his bare feet again. The hobbit’s heart leapt in his throat and he could feel his body shake with the effort it took to control the emotions that welled up inside him. There was Thorin, kneeling on the cold stone floor with the crown Bilbo had worn this afternoon in hand, his eyes red with tears and a bruise forming on his chin. The dwarf looked as shocked as Bilbo felt he himself must have looked, his face pale and mouth hanging open with stunned surprise. 

“ _Bilbo!_ ” A shriek echoed in the atrium and Bilbo’s desperately pulled his gaze away from Thorin to find Lobelia, of all hobbits, standing on the seat of the throne with the Arkenstone in hand. “Bilbo, you’re _alive!_ ”

“L-Lobelia? What’s going on?”

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently in the book, you could buy a pony for 4 silver pennies in Bree. So I figured a loaf of bread for 1 silver penny would be highway robbery, even in a wealthy Kingdom like Erebor.  
> The book series Reg is talking about is written by a certain secret author with a notorious brother. ; )
> 
> Almost done with this part of the series! One or two more chapters to go!


	41. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin are reunited and some things are explained.

****

 

“Lobelia?” Bilbo asked hoarsely, his eyes traveling between the hobbit lass and Thorin. Of all the situations he was prepared to walk into, _this_ was not one of them. “What’s going on?”

In the quiet shock of the atmosphere around them, his voice seemed to echo through the atrium. The crowd watching held their breath in anticipation, their penetrating stares sending shivers of foreboding unease over Bilbo. He didn’t understand why they were all looking at him like they’d just seen a wraith.

 Otho and Dudo’s faces were ghostly white with terror and Rose Burrows took one look at him and promptly fainted into an elf’s arms. Olo cried out and reached out for Bilbo, but his mother swept him up in her arms and tucked his face away from view. Even the dwarves looked shocked by their appearance. Dori’s hands shook wildly and Ori’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. Óin, Glóin, and their family were at the edge of the gathering with a small congregation of noble looking dwarves, staring at Bilbo and Thráin with awed expressions. Bombur, standing by himself uncomfortably in his apron, burst into tears at the sight of his brother and cousin, the three of them rushing into each other’s arms and hugging each other tightly.

The one reaction that Bilbo was most aware of though was Thorin’s. His focus narrowed on the kneeling dwarf and the audience around them faded away into the background.

“ _Bilbo_.” The small voice of the dwarf King’s broke Bilbo’s heart and he found his vision foggy with tears threatening to fall. “B-Bilbo, y-you’re…” Thorin clumsily tried to get to his feet but the heavily brocaded woolen and furred cloak around his neck got stuck under his boots, tripping him up. He jerked the cloak out of the way, displaying an exquisite blue and black velvet tunic with a red gossamer sash across his chest, soft cashmere pants with tiny silver stars dotted about his ankles and a thick silver belt. Even red-eyed and bruised, Thorin was the most stunning person Bilbo had ever seen.

A joyous smile broke across the hobbit’s face and he sighed happily in relief, “ _Thorin_.”

Thorin swore softly in Khuzdul, the crown in his hands dropping to the hard granite floor from his numb fingers. It rolled down the dais and came to a stop at Balin’s feet. The old dwarf swiftly scooped it up in his hands.

Before Bilbo even was aware of it, he was racing down the pathway and into Thorin’s arms. The dwarf swept him up into a tight hug, whirling the hobbit off his feet as he smothered kisses against Bilbo’s lips and cheeks. Bilbo laughed joyously, his heart filled to bursting with love for Thorin. He’d never been happier to see anyone in his life and did his best to express that joy in his returned affections. When they came to a halt, Thorin kissed him deeply, causing Bilbo to bow backwards at the desperate passion of it.  

“Oh, Thorin, my heart,” Bilbo said softly, framing the dwarf’s face in his hands and pressing a firm kiss against Thorin’s chapped lips. The familiar taste of the dwarf made Bilbo’s toes curl in desire and he giggled hysterically into the kiss. “I’m so happy. I thought I’d never see you again.” Thorin’s chest rumbled in reply, his stubbly chin scratching against Bilbo’s soft cheeks as he continued to kiss whatever bit of skin he could reach.

 “Bilbo, ghivashel,” Thorin rasped, carding his fingers through Bilbo’s hair and caressing the tips of his ears. “Gajut men. Menu tessu. Men lananubukhs menu.”

They gazed into each other’s eyes, adoration and joy plain to see. “I--I have no idea what you just said, but I really don’t care. I’m just so happy to see you alive and well.”

“I could say the same for you.” Thorin knocked his forehead against Bilbo’s, allowing the hobbit to scratch his short fingernails through the dwarf’s growing beard and nuzzling their noses together before gently kissing him. “I was told of your death mere moments ago and thought all that was good in the world had been lost to me.”

Bilbo felt a lump of emotion well up in his throat and for a moment he thought he would choke on it. “I-- I don’t know what to say, I’m just-- I’m just so happy and c-confused I don’t know where to begin. There’s been-- something happened and I thought I would never see you again. We were betrayed and--and…”

Thorin pulled back to look at him, his desperate eyes noting the tears of the hobbit’s clothes and dirty pallor of his skin. “You are safe now. I will not stand to have you leave my side again. I thought my heart had been torn asunder by your absence and whatever hope I had burned to a cinder at the announcement of your death. Please, you must… you must tell me what has occurred to put you in such a state.”

“Yeah!” Lobelia squeaked, standing on her toes to be seen from over Thorin’s shoulder. “That one dwarf said he saw Mister Thorin push both you and his father over the railing and into a river of melting gold. You should be dead!”

“Wha-- _great forges?_ ” Bilbo shook his head and the roaring sound of the spectators around them rang in his ears. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that they weren’t alone and others had been watching their reunion with bated breath. Heat flooded his cheeks and he hid his face against’ Thorin’s shoulder, trying to avoid the penetrating stares of the crowd around them. “That’s not what happened at all. Master Nali, it was _him!_ He tricked us and tried to hurt us. There was no altercation between Thorin and me; in fact we hadn’t seen each other since this morning.”

Loni held up her hand awkwardly, looking embarrassed by all the attention. “I was there as well, so um, I can back up Bilbo’s account of the situation.”

“Aye, me too!” Bofur whirled around, holding up his pointer finger.

Lobelia squinted at them in confusion, like she couldn’t quite decide if Bilbo was a telling the truth or not, despite him being the one person she could trust to say what had really happened and what didn’t. “But there was proof a-and witnesses! It was all Master Thorin’s bid for sole Kingship! After we all saw your state when you came home this morning, I wouldn’t put it past him to do something so cruel. Everyone in Hobbiton saw you crying!”

Bilbo gasped, shocked by Lobelia’s audacious accusation.

Thorin’s cheeks stained red and the bruise on his jaw darkened with color as he gritted his teeth in anger. “I know what was alleged against me did not happen either, but in my grief I did not deny the allegation. Náli provided proof and eyewitnesses to your death, so I had nothing to refute his claims.” Thorin paused, steeling himself for whatever he was going to say next. “I-- I regret deeply how I transgressed against you this morning, but I would never attempt to harm you. Your life is precious to me, more precious than any in Erebor. Could I go back and change what happened this morning, I would in a heartbeat, but I must take responsibility for my own actions and I will make up for it a hundred times over for what I have done to you.”

“I know,” Bilbo said, smiling gently up at his dwarf.

Turning his gaze away, Bilbo looked over the crowd, trying to spot the scheming dwarf that caused their suffering. He could see the elves over to one side of the throne, grouped closely together and standing as tall as thin, willowy trees in a forest. Thranduil stood proudly at the head of them, dressed in pale purple with a scarlet velvet jacket, his crown now sporting red berries. Lady Galadriel was next to the Elvenking, her dress a sparkling slate grey and a jeweled tiara above her brow. Her piercing blue eyes met Bilbo’s and she gave him a small nod. He was confused by the gesture, but his heart felt lightened nonetheless.

The next group was their friends and visiting royal dignitaries. King Bard had a place of honor near Thorin’s throne, his expression somber as his youngest child was clutched tightly in his arms. He didn’t seem pleased by what had come to pass and his one free hand was on the hilt of his sword. Dori stood closely to the King of Esgaroth, his mouth moving quickly though his voice was lost to Bilbo in the loud thundering of the crowd. Ori was next to his brother, looking off behind the throne and clutching a metal gauntlet, brows furrowed in confusion. Then there was Balin, who even stood with Lobelia up next to the throne, examining the crown in his hands with a solemn frown.       

“Where is Nali?” Bilbo asked, turning his attention back to Thorin. 

“He’s right...” Thorin trailed off, looking over the crowd with a deep scowl. “He was right here! We were to duel not a moment ago.”

“ _Duel?_ ” Bilbo choked, pushing away from Thorin’s arms to glare up at him.

After grumbling to himself in Khuzdul, Thorin explained. “He questioned my honor, so we were to battle. As my trusted councilman, if he believed the people of Erebor were in danger, he could request a duel for the right of my rule.”

“So-- so if he beat you, he would rule Erebor in your stead?” Bilbo could hardly believe his ears.

Thorin tried not to meet Bilbo gaze. “Well, yes. As victor he would earn the right to take from me anything he asked and be placed as regent until my heirs were ready to ascend to the throne.”

The audience closest to them hissed with fury, everyone trying to talk at once and be heard. Bilbo glanced from Balin, whose steady voice was lost in the clamor, to Glóin and Óin, arguing loudly and gesturing wildly with their fists. It was hard to think over all that noise but still his mind worked furiously over what exactly Náli’s goal had been. The dwarf had never mentioned he wanted to rule Erebor, but surely he was greedy enough to take it if offered. He had mostly been talking about how he sought revenge as well as seeming to enjoy the pain he caused. But there had never been any declaration of what he planned to do afterwards.

There was a tug at his chin and Bilbo was forced to meet Thorin’s eyes. “Anyways, none of that would have come to pass. The line of Durin has ruled Erebor unbroken for generations. None would question my right to rule unless it posed a threat to everyone in the Kingdom. With the proof that you live and the people now knowing that I am not power mad, Náli’s words of danger are proved hollowed.” 

Bilbo shook Thorin’s hand’s off. The dwarf seemed wholly unperturbed by the distressing nature of their situation. “But Thorin, if you had dueled Náli and lost, more than Erebor would have been in danger. He seeks retribution against us for losing a fight against Frerin. Long ago, your brother stepped in for my grandfather when Náli wanted to combat him for the right to marry my grandmother. He lost and since then he’s held a grudge against your family and mine for generations. He once suggested to your father that the dwarves enslave the hobbits over a petty land dispute!”

Lobelia gasped, holding one hand over her lips as the other one tucked the Arkenstone close to her chest. “W-what?” The other hobbits looked at each other in alarm, their knuckles turning white against the makeshift weapons in their hands. Little Myrtle, strapped to her mother’s chest, started crying, as if sensing her family’s distress. A few hobbits’ surprise turned to anger, and they pushed none too gently at the dwarves pressing closer to get a glimpse at the drama unfolding near the throne. 

Prince Legolas made a threatening step towards them and Thranduil’s hand shot out to hold him back. Bilbo didn’t know what the young elf had planned to do, but he looked very much like he wanted to pluck Bilbo right out of Thorin’s arms.

  
“No such thing will _ever_ happen while I am still alive.” It was Thorin’s turn to search wildly through the crowd for Náli’s presence, clutching tightly to Bilbo the whole while. “Where is he? Did he turn and run away like a coward?”

“My Lord,” Balin stepped forward, Bilbo’s lost crown still in his grip. “Nali fled when King Thráin and your betrothed were returned to us. The duel has ended with his absence. His household and holdings have defaulted to you in victory.”

Lobelia even hopped off the throne, pointing dramatically at the bit of blood around the rim of the crown.

“See,” she said loudly, yanking on Bilbo’s arm to get his attention. “That’s your blood. Even the elves said so.”

“Náli did cut me,” Bilbo admitted, tipping his chin back enough to show her the small wound. “I dropped my crown in a small scuffle with him and he used my own sword against me to get everyone to do as he demanded. He cut me a bit to show how sincere he was about his threat. He must have picked up the crown on his return to the main tunnels after he had secured us in the abandoned chamber.”

“Oh,” the hobbit lass said softly, paling and shrinking back. Thorin instantly took her place, swooping forward desperately to investigate the injury.

“He has hurt you,” Thorin grumbled, caressing the small cut tenderly. “He attacked the Consort of the King, threatened the Shire, conspired to take my throne away from me, _and_ committed treason against the line of Durin. That ishuke! I will have his beard for this! Rally the guards! Find the perpetrators to this treachery!”

The dwarves around them started shouting eagerly for blood, throwing their angry fists in the air and pushing against each other as the tall folk looked around in uncertainty, hesitant to join in on the belligerent behavior. The hobbits stood around pursing their lips in irritation and tried in vain to keep things under control.

Master Balin winced and dutifully stepped back as Thorin herded Bilbo to the throne, stepping onto the dais above everyone and roaring in Khuzdul, working the crowd into a larger frenzy. King Thráin stepped up behind them, chanting along with the others to a war song, stomping his feet as the sound of their march echoed through the Mountain.

Dwarves who had previously been watching them calmly, pushed through the line of hobbits and hurried to the pile of weapons at the back of the room and took up arms, a few slipping on the displayed ceremonial armor and banging their axes against their covered chests. The echoing sound of metal against metal rang through the Mountain, sending a shiver of ominous premonition down Bilbo’s spine.

 “Wait,” Bilbo begged, tugging on the thick lapels of Thorin’s gorgeous blue coat. “Please, wait. We don’t know– You have to tell me what–”

He was cut off when Lobelia cleared her throat loudly, drawing Thorin’s attention reluctantly back to her. “ _Excuse me_ , but there will be no rallying the troops of any sort!”

Her voice was sickeningly sweet, but her narrow gaze and tight smile belied her true feelings. In her frumpy pink and flower laced gown she contrasted sharply with the dark and geometric designs of the throne behind her.  Her expression was pinched, anger and irritation conveyed quite openly as she glared at Thorin like she was ready to throw the Arkenstone at his head.

“You _dare_ command me,” Thorin growled, turning slowly to face the hobbit lass, the rambling audience making a chaos of noise around them. “There is a fiend about who wishes my beloved harm. Would you rather us sit about dallying until he returns to finish what he began? It is my right to command the guards to find Náli and have him answer for his crimes.”

Lobelia pointedly held up the Arkenstone and pursed her lips mulishly at the dwarf. “I believe I have the leadership here, not you. That wizard said the one who holds the stone commands the troops.”

“You thief,” Thorin hissed, his arms slackening around Bilbo for a moment. “You stole it while Náli had me distracted and incapacitated.”

“I _took_ it when the Shire sieged Erebor in retaliation for Mister Baggins’ mistreatment!”

“Wait, what?” Bilbo asked, voice breaking in bewilderment. “The _Shire_ attacked Erebor?” 

“Yes,” Lobelia said primly, straightening her skirts as the newly armored dwarves returned to wait for Thorin’s orders. The elves in particular looked rapturous with the drama unfolding in front of them.

“We did it for you, Bilbo. I saw the whole thing. The dwarves tried to lock us hobbits out of the Mountain after you went in, and I just knew something foul was happening so I raced back on my pony to let the Thain know. Even Mister Gamgee agreed with me that the best thing to do was storm the Mountain – peacefully, mind you – and demand they hand you back over to your rightful place. These dwarves obviously do not know how to treat a gentlehobbit like yourself, Mister Baggins!”

“His rightful place is by my side,” Thorin bellowed, yanking Bilbo back against his chest. “He is my One!”

There was a tittering of surprise from the dwarves in the audience who turned to the couple with joyous expressions and sympathetic eyes. Even a few elves smiled softly in approval, while the Men and hobbits shared confused glances.

Lobelia stomped her foot in anger. “He’s a hobbit, not some possession for you to claim at your whim. We all saw what he looked like when he returned from the Mountain this morning. He was in tears and heartbroken. If that’s how you treat your intended, I’d hate to see how you’d rule a Kingdom. It’s for Erebor’s own good that we hobbits have decided to take over temporarily.”

Thorin flinched like the hobbit had actually struck him physically. “How could you… You do not know…” He breathed deeply through his anger before he turned and looked down at Bilbo, his eyes shining with hurt. “I’m sorry, this morning was– it was difficult for me. I should not have taken my anger out on you. You did not deserve the treatment I handed you.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo said softly, cupping the dwarf’s cheek. “It’s fine and we’ll talk on it later – but there’s much more important things to deal with right now.”

Nodding in understanding, Thorin turned back to glare at Lobelia. “Now, as King, I demand—” He looked ready to give her a scathing lecture, but was distracted by a sudden movement in the crowd.

“As I recall, Prince Thorin, you have not exactly been crowned King yet.” Thranduil parted from his delegation and stepped up to the dais. “In fact, I distinctly remember you turning the position down before the ceremony even began. You have no power in Erebor to command the armies, at least at this moment.”

The sudden announcement felt like someone had tugged the rug out from under his feet and Bilbo turned to stare in horror up at Thorin. “Is what he says true?”

“ _Bilbo_ ,” Thorin said, his voice straining as he tried to glare surreptitiously over his intended’s shoulder at the Elvenking. He grabbed the hobbit’s hands in his, bringing them to his chest until Bilbo could feel the steady beat of the dwarf’s heart. “After you left this morning, I talked with my father. I knew I had wronged you – once again – and I could not think of any way to regain my honor nor place in your heart. He suggested something that hadn’t been done in a while, and I conceded to the wisdom in his words. I could not be King of Erebor if my heart was weighed down by the burdens of my transgressions. I decided this morning to delay my coronation and announced it at the beginning of the ceremony.”

“B-but you’ve always have a place in my heart. Always. No matter what.” Bilbo blinked wildly, his stomach sinking at Thorin’s words. He knew, just _knew_ , that Thorin had done something they both were going to regret. “Why would you delay becoming King? It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“No,” Thorin said, gazing longingly into Bilbo eyes and tugging at his messy braid. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted. My duties have distracted me from the things that really matter, so I am leaving my sister and brother-in-law in charge of Erebor while I go on a courting quest to prove my worth to you.”

“ _What_?” Bilbo’s eye widened and he took a step back in surprise.

“He said–” Lobelia started to say, but Bilbo cut her off.

  
“I know what he said. I just can’t believe he’d do something so dunderheaded,” the hobbit hissed, swatting at the foolish dwarf. “Your father is sick and your sister is with child – you can’t just leave off on an _adventure_ for _my_ sake! I never asked you to do this for me!”

“You didn’t have to.” Thorin smiled softly, cupping the hobbit’s chin in his hand and kissing each of his cheeks. “It was my choice to make. My sister and brother-in-law are more than adequate to rule in my stead for a year. Would you rather I leave Fili and Kili in charge?” 

 “Well… no, they’re both still very young.” Bilbo reached up and put his hand around Thorin’s wrist. “But that’s no excuse to run off and forget about your duties. Erebor needs you. Náli’s tried to take the throne from you once today, and you shouldn’t give it up for my sake. I need–   _we_ need you here and–”

“The might of Erebor will not easily fall to one so cowardly attempting to trick the line of Durin!” King Thráin shouted, ruining the moment between Bilbo and Thorin. Stepping up to the throne and turning to the crowd, Thráin thrust his fist in the air, blocking the couples’ view with his heavy cloak and wide shoulders.  “I am _still_ King and those who conspire against me will suffer my wrath! Find the cowards and bring me their heads. Any who turn against Erebor will pay for their traitorous ways. I will give treasure chests filled with gold to the one who finds Náli for me. ”

“ _Father!_ ” Thorin yelled, trying to be heard over the roar of the crowd.

“Thráin, you can’t!” Bilbo shrieked, wrenching himself from Thorin’s arm. “You’re only going to make it worse!”

The old dwarf put an arm around the hobbit’s shoulder, trying to comfort the flustered hobbit. He looked down at Bilbo, his brow soft with concern and eyes glassy. “If you are really Thorin’s One then you shall not have to worry, as you will soon be family. I will freely pay the debt to return your honor.”

The once composed attendees now shoved and yelled at each other to get out of the throne room, all of them over taken with the frantic need to ferret out Náli and receive the gold promised. Dwarves kicked at the shins of the tall folk, elves tripped up dwarves, Men elbowed roughly at each other. Children were screaming, calling out for their mothers, while adults argued over who would look where and who would stay to see what else would unfold in the throne room. Even the Master of Laketown was blatantly shoving others aside with his large belly, trying to wiggle out of the confusing mass of people to get into the tunnels of Erebor. The hobbits must have barricaded some of the doors when they sieged the Mountain, as some exits hindered the excitable crowd from leaving, and that only made them angry enough to turn their weapons on each other. Prince Legolas had to quickly duck from an axe flying past his head as a group of noble dwarves tried in vain to leave through a side exit behind the congregated elves. Only a few seemed unmoved by Thráin’s promised bounty, watching in horror as their family and friends turned against each other in their bid to capture the traitors for themselves.

“Mister Baggins!” Hamfast yelled, scampering up to them with Jessamine and Olo close behind him. The round hobbit was panting wildly, sweat dripping down his brow. “What do we do? How do we stop them?”

“I--I…” Bilbo looked over the crowd, at the utter chaos that was unfolding. His stomach sank at the sight of it all, how frenzied and hostile the audience had become. Friend turned against friend, dwarves against dwarves, Men against Men. Even the elves seemed affected by the greed in the air and a few tried to sneak away from the delegation to slip into the once empty halls of the Mountain, but Thranduil’s cool stare froze them in place. Someone shoved at Peony Burrows when she didn’t move out of the way fast enough, jostling baby Myrtle in the process and causing the babe to wail loudly in distress as her mother stumbled to her knees. Lady Galadriel stepped from her flanking guards and helped the mother up, pulling the two hobbits under the cape of her gown and protecting them from harm.

Without a word said, many of the hobbits gravitated to the elves still standing by the throne.  In the confusing pandemonium unfurling in front of them, a hobbit was an easy thing to miss, and they knew it was safer to be around the elves at least. A few dwarves that had remained unaffected by Thráin’s declaration – mostly those considered close friends to both Bilbo and Thorin – helped hobbits wade through the hysterical crowd as well as others that had gotten pulled into the disarray unexpectedly. With all the shoving and pushing going on, it was a wonder no one had slipped from the narrow walkways.

Bilbo turned to look over his shoulder at Thorin. “What are we going to do? This is getting out of hand and someone’s going to get hurt if this keeps up.”

Slipping up beside him, the younger dwarf carefully removed his father’s arm from around Bilbo and pulled the hobbit into his reassuring embrace. “I know. We’ll figure this out, everything will be fine.”

“This is just horrid,” Bilbo muttered into the dwarf’s chest, pressing the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Just horrid. I wish none of this ever happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Thorin murmured, kissing at the hobbit’s temple. “This is my entire fault. If I had been able to see the wickedness in my own council, I could have stopped Náli before his devious plans could have taken shape. Had I not been so blind and foolish to his scheming–“

“No, Thorin! Don’t say that,” Bilbo said hurriedly, not wanting to burden the dwarf’s shoulders with even more undue blame. “Things could have manageable if Thráin had not made that announcement. But ultimately this is Náli’s fault, no one else’s. As King you should be able to rely on those who help you rule and Erebor has prospered for all the trust that has grown between the council and King. Náli took advantage of that trust and nothing else. Do not shoulder the blame that is not yours.”

“Mister Baggins? Mister Thorin, sir?” Hamfast shouted, his expression aghast at being ignored by the two.

“Right,” Bilbo muttered, turning back towards the frantic hobbits. “We need to get things in order. How do we get the army to respond? If you, Thorin, cannot command them and Thráin won’t, what do we do?”

Bilbo knew if they could command the soldiers into a semblance of order and calm down the crowd, there might have been a chance to figure everything out without causing anymore undue stress. Náli needed to be found – _alive_ – to answer for his crimes. But in the chaos he could easily slip out of the Mountain without anybody knowing any better.

“Ahem!” A high, feminine voice coughed behind them. Both Thorin and Bilbo turned to look at Lobelia, who still held the Arkenstone in her firm grip. “Right, so glad to have your attention again, especially since _that_ one had to go and get everyone in a state.” She glared at Thráin, who looked completely unconcerned by the mayhem he’d caused and was in fact clapping along to the shouts and war songs ringing through the tunnels and echoing into the atrium. “Now,” she sniffed. “I was given to understand that the one who held the Arkenstone had the power around here? That’s what the white wizard said before I took it.”

Thorin looked between Bilbo and Lobelia, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. “The Arkenstone links the power of the entire dwarf Kingdoms under the one who holds it, should they need to call upon their armies, but that is all. You cannot command leadership of Erebor with it alone.”

“Hah! As if I’d want it,” the hobbit lass said shrilly, rolling her eyes. “Your Kingdom’s a mess as it is, so don’t try to foist the cleanup all into my hands. This disarray obviously needs a hobbit’s touch, but not mine. I just became a wife, there’s no compunction that will make me want to be a… a _Queen_ too!”

“The Arkenstone! Give it to me! ” Thráin finally appeared to notice Lobelia holding the stone. He took a threatening step towards her, as if to snatch it from her hands, but Thorin held him back.

“Wait, father.”

“It’s _mine!_ I am King! It belongs to me!” Thráin hollered, trying in vain to twist out of Thorin’s grip. “Give it to me or I will have your head! Filthy halfling, you beardless tramp! Disgraceful, filthy halfwit, you dishonor the line of Durin for what you have done!”

The sudden change in the old dwarf’s demeanor surprised Bilbo so much he had to take a couple of steps back and bumped into Bifur, who’d stepped forward without compunction to protect the hobbits. Bilbo had never seen the old King so vicious and violent before. Whatever had come over him at the sight of the Arkenstone was more than his illness. He was crazed, mad with desire for the royal trinket.

At first Lobelia shrunk back against the throne, scared by Thráin and bumping into the arms of the stone carved seat, but then she looked down. And when she gazed into the glowing core of the stone; its heart that was radiating with a glittering essence never seen in Middle-Earth, her alarm faded into a dazed indolence. She smiled down at it, her eyes glassy with the same glazed look that Thráin had. “It’s a pretty bauble,” she said softly, caressing the stone like a babe. “It would make a good paperweight – maybe on Otho’s office desk where everyone who came by for brunch could see it. I deserve it, taking it from the great King of Erebor without him noticing. I bet Lily Brown would turn green with envy if she saw it in my smial. She’d be so… _jealous_.”  

Bilbo took a step towards her and held his hands out, as if to show the other hobbit he meant her no harm. “Lobelia, give me the stone.”

“Hmm,” she said inattentively, staring longingly into the Arkenstone. “Did you say something, Bilbo?”

“The Arkenstone,” Bilbo said calmly. “Give it to me. I’m going to put it back where it belongs.”

Lobelia swiftly clutched it to her bosom. “It’s _mine!_ I took it!”

“Yes, you did.” Bilbo nodded, taking another step forward until he was even with the lass. “But it’s time now to give it back. That’s the respectable thing to do.”

Speaking of good manners seemed to pull the other hobbit out of her stupor. Lobelia blinked wildly, shaking her head as it to shrug off whatever had come over her. She looked worriedly over at Thráin, who’d calmed down with a gentle hand on his brow from Lady Galadriel. “Ah, right. You’re right, of course. How odd I should forget.”

Bilbo smiled brokenly at her, praying to Eru she would not look back down at the stone and get caught in whatever pull it seemed to have on her. “I know. You’ve always had the finest manners, so I know you know it’s the best thing to do.”

“Yes,” Lobelia barely glanced back down at the stone before Bilbo covered her hands with his, blocking the sight of the glimmering jewel. “You’re right, Bilbo. It’s for the… best.”

Before she could change her mind, Bilbo carefully took the stone from her grip. With the Arkenstone in his grip, the howling bellow of the searching crowd faded away. The beauty of the jewel, with its glimmering facet and multitude of colors, pulsed with light to the same beat as his heart. For a moment, he contemplated slipping it into his own pockets, the beat of its glowing core confirmation that it was meant to be his. Something about the Arkenstone drew him, filled him with desire to keep and secret the stone away. It was an odd feeling; one Bilbo had never felt before, dark and possessive. He wanted to hide it away in Bag End, maybe bury it in his garden where none but he could ever gaze upon its beauty, or even toss the jewel over the railing into the crags of the Mountain, to keep someone from taking it from him. But before any desire could take hold, Thorin set a heavy hand on his shoulder and startled him from the thought.

“Here,” Bilbo said, handing the stone over slowly with a trembling grip. “It’s odd. I didn’t craving to keep it until I held it.”

“It’s known to have that effect,” Thorin answered grudgingly, tucking the stone into a breast pocket without thought. “I will tell you the story later. Now, I cannot risk your life again. Dwalin will escort you to my rooms, where you will be safest. Bofur and Bifur can wait with you as guards. I will stay here and try to command the troops into–”

“Milord, wait!” Balin said loudly, breaking away from a dwarf in a guard uniform that had been quietly whispering in his ear. “Remember Náli’s guards took the Princess and your heirs under their protection? I’ve just received reports that they have not been spotted since they were escorted out and their chambers are undisturbed. We should assume Náli has had a hand in this and their lives are in danger.”

Thorin blanched, his hand freezing in place against Bilbo’s back where he’d been trying to placate the hobbit. “ _W-what?_ ” He looked wildly around for the rest of his family, stepping away from Bilbo’s side to a couple of unoccupied spaces nearby. The ornate seat next to the throne was abandoned, sitting vacant except for a small black pearl bead on the floor next to the leg of it. Thorin kneeled and picked it up, examining it closely before his expression broke into something so painful Bilbo thought his own heart would break. “This is Dis’. It belongs on the sleeve of her dress. Someone must have yanked at her wrist to loosen it from the threads.”

Balin’s own expression was wretched, looking upset and disappointed in himself. “You were dazed at the time, so you might not have noticed their departure. Master Náli said it was for their own good and rushed them off with his guards before anyone could say otherwise. I overlooked the suspicious nature of the departure, because I was concerned for your own safety. You were too stunned by the announcement of Mister Baggins’ death to fight in a duel fairly against the Councilman. When the lass there slapped you,” he gestured towards Lobelia, “you came out of it … but I did not think of them again. I’m sorry, I should have been more vigilant. I have failed you.”

“No,” Thorin rasped. “You have not, Balin. I fear this is all a result of my own foolishness.”

“There is a chance they are still alive,” Bilbo said, tugging on Thorin’s arm and helping him back up. “Have they been gone long?”

Balin shook his head. “No, but longer than I am comfortable with. I believe Dwalin hurried after them once you showed up and Nori was not far behind him, but it doesn’t take long to slit a throat unless you want to gloat about it beforehand.”

“Náli’s the gloating type,” Loni said suddenly, appearing at Bilbo’s side with a confident nod. “He rambled on to Bilbo about his grievances the majority of the walk through the abandoned tunnels. I would think he’d want either one of you there when he did his awful deeds, if only to see your reactions.”

 Tugging nervously at his beard, Balin nodded along. “Let us pray to Mahal he is irrational enough to wait.”

Thorin shook himself from his grief, his fist tightening around the small bead as his anger grew. “Let us prepare for battle!” he shouted, “Get me my sword! I will find Nali myself and have him answer to his crimes with my sword at his throat. He will beg Mahal for a quick death if he has hurt one hair on any of their heads.”

There was a flurry of movement from the remaining dwarves. The few in uniform rushed off to do as Thorin ordered, bringing back more than just Thorin’s weapon and armor. Balin was quickly outfitted in his Command armor, as well as Dori and Glóin. Gimli helped his father and Uncle buckle their shin armor, whining about how he wanted to fight too. Ori looked eager to join in, but without armor of his own had to accept some leather coverings from Dori’s old stock and a lecture on proper protocol. Bofur and Bifur didn’t appear to have any armor of their own readily available, so they accepted some of the extra chainmail and protective gear the guards had brought along. Bombur being too large to fit any of the armor the guards had to loan, settled for strapping one of his frying pans to his chest and hefting his whisk and soup ladle as a weapon.

Bilbo watched helplessly as Thorin was assisted by three young guards into his armor, each of them working seamlessly together to get the King in his gear as quickly as can be. Once they were done, they stepped back swiftly, fading into the lingering crowd as Thorin stood proudly before the throne. He struck a handsome figure in silver and blue, his fur cloak trailing on the floor as his breastplate gleamed in the bright glow of the lanterns. The gold and mithril crown on the top of his head were a striking finishing touch.

Balin, Dori, and Glóin rushed to their King’s side once they were outfitted. They conversed on their plan of attack, speaking loudly on where they should look first and who might be in liege with Náli. The others edged closer to the discussion, inputting advice where it was needed and striking down impractical suggestions. Bilbo felt a little like he’d been forgotten in the rush, but shook himself of the selfish feeling. There were still things he could do to help. He didn’t have to be at Thorin’s side at every minute.

With the majority of the crowd having left the throne room to search the Mountain, the few left over were mostly their friends and close allies. Bilbo was surprised to see familiar faces he hadn’t noticed before. There were even a few dwarves that Bilbo remembered from his time working in the kitchens, kind maids and helpful butlers who had made his work enjoyable with their friendship. Master Flar and Mistress Flor stood awkwardly next to King Bard, the elder dwarf chef trying not to mind that the youngest human Princess was poking him in the back without her father’s notice. Master Jari had also stayed behind, holding a handful of swords and staring dew-eyed at Balin. Draupnir and Hork had their heads bent together with Rose Goold, the Master tailor pinching the fabric of her red dress in his gloved hands. Mistress Nry, the Master jeweler, had an arm around Laura Baggins shoulder, helping the elder hobbit hobble towards them.

“Bilbo,” Laura Baggins said. “Sweet boy, come here.”

Bilbo hurried to her. He knew they were in a desperate time constraint, but if anybody had any knowledge on how to defeat Náli, it possibly could be the one hobbit he’d once had a semblance of positive feelings towards. Maybe she had a clue to where Nali had gone. “Yes, grandmother?”

She took his hands in hers, her wrinkled fingers cupping his palms. “My boy, I heard what you said. Did my Mungo and that rascal Prince really cause all this?”

“No,” Bilbo shook his head, trying to ignore Dori’s frantic gestures in his peripheral vision. The others were getting impatient with waiting. Thorin was shouting order in Khuzdul from the dais as some of the dwarves who’d left earlier having returned to the atrium in uniform and armor. “It wasn’t grandsire’s fault. It was Náli’s.”

The older hobbits sighed heavily and she seemed to age a decade in front of him. “I knew my refusal had hurt him. I did not mean to cause him pain, but a darkness was growing in his heart and I knew there would be no room for me if I allowed him to continue courting me. If I had maybe been a bit more careful and let him down gentler…”

Bilbo pulled Laura into his arms, hugging his grandmother gently as if she might break. “Do not ever blame yourself for what happened. You did nothing wrong.”

“I know. But I regret how my actions have affected you. If I had been as wise as you are at that age, I might have been clever enough to deter Náli’s affection before he became so set on me. You have a smart head on your shoulders and a good heart, you do us Baggins’ proud.” She peeked around his shoulder at Thorin pacing in front of the throne. “And that dwarf of yours is not so bad either. He cuts a striking figure in that suit.”

Bilbo chuckled, pulling back to kiss her on the forehead. “If you say so, but I must go now. I need to help my friends find the others. Nali is still loose and they could be in danger.”

“Náli, he liked gold.” Laura said suddenly, pinching at his side. “He said it was his secret passion, but he was always talking about it and even requested I wear yellow on our outings. Said the color brought out the gold in my hair, but I eventually figured out the true meaning of his words. He was always bragging about how much gold his father had and scheming on how to get more of it. If you are looking for him he will still be in the Mountain, probably near where he hordes his treasure.”

“Oh,” Bilbo blinked, startled by the news. He didn’t know where Náli kept his gold, but maybe one of the others did? “Master Balin! Please, come here.”

The white bearded dwarf hurried to the hobbits side without question. Thorin paused in his pacing to watch them with penetrating eyes, ignoring the guard trying to talk to him. “Yes, Mister Baggins?” Balin asked, nodding politely at Laura Baggins.

“Where would Náli keep his treasure?”

“Treasure? What sort of treasure?”

“His _gold_ ,” Bilbo answered.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caristia, has been the most wonderful person ever about beta-ing this chapter, even though she’s been sick and I’ve basically rewritten this thing twice for her to review in this weekend alone. I really don’t deserve her. She is the best ever!  
> Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Last month just wasn’t very good for me on a personal level and it was hard to work up the motivation to write. But hopefully, the next one should be out soon as it’s already half written! =)
> 
> Ref: Khuzdul translations: http://www.guildportal.com/Guild.aspx?GuildID=281566&TabID=2362566&ForumID=1317752&TopicID=7575765   
> Forgive me >Gajut men  
> You are everything >Menu tessu  
> You mean more to me than my beard >Ekespu menu men o targu men  
> I love you >Men lananubukhs menu  
> You complete me >Menu zirup men  
> desire you more than an endless vein of mithril >Men eleneku menu o bepap opetu ezirak  
> ghivashel- treasures of all treasures  
> Ishuke- Lesser Craven (coward)  
> Elf Dictionary used: http://www.elfdict.com/index.page


	42. Golden Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Náli is confronted and Bilbo discovers his courage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: see end note

****

 

“Well,” Balin mused, his large nose twitching in thought. “Náli’s gold would be where the rest of our gold is I suppose.”

Bilbo tried not to roll his eyes in frustration. “And where would that be?”

The older dwarf shrugged, “In the treasury.”

Laura Baggins smirked, her expression completely self-assured. “That settles it. He’ll be there, surrounded by the one thing he had no problem acquiring.”

Balin turned to the elder hobbit, his fuzzy white eyebrows raised in surprise. “Are you saying Náli is in the royal treasury? Few are allowed admittance outside the royal family or the Master Treasurer. As Thorin’s kin and Councilman, even _I’d_ have trouble getting in there.”

Bilbo grasped the dwarf’s arms and shook him, though the action hardly seemed to affect Balin. “That’s it! If he has Dis or one of the boys, he’d gain access without question, wouldn’t he?”

“Oh.” Balin blinked, stunned by the revelation as he worked the thought over in his head. “You’re right. Very clever of you to see that, Mister Baggins.”

Thorin thundered down the steps towards them, his cape fluttering behind him dramatically and his sword at the ready. He looked ferocious, with heavy shadows covering half his eyes, and a scowl creasing his face. “What did you discover Balin?”

With Thorin storming about, it quickly drew the others attention. Dori and Ori hurried at his heels, the younger dwarf looking dreadfully fretful and nervously wringing his hands together, while Dori looked shockingly calm about the whole situation. Bofur and Bombur pulled themselves away from their family, Bombur kissing his wife’s forehead sweetly and pinching his youngest on the cheek, whereas Bifur patted King Thráin on the back before joining them. Óin hobble over, polished his ear pipe and taking his time to glare at Thranduil as he passed. Glóin tried valiantly to extract Gimli from around his legs, promising over his shoulder to take Gimli with him on the next adventure. The young dwarf looked determined to follow them regardless, until Legolas provided an excellent distracted for him.

“We shall guard the main gate in case this traitor comes back.” Legolas gave the young dwarf a jubilant smile. The elf’s silver diadem sparkled in the lantern light as he cocked his head to the side to study the young dwarf. “It should not be so difficult for you if I am here. I will protect you.”

Gimli sputtered, his cheeks turning as red as his hair. “I can guard the front gates by myself, you– you _weedy elf!_ ”

Legolas laughed, apparently pleased by the insult, and Thranduil gave his son a blatant, unimpressed look.

“Your majesty,” Balin said, sweeping back in a small bow as the others crowded around to listen. “Mister and Madam Baggins here have possibly discovered Náli’s hiding spot.”

“Where?” Thorin turned his fierce gaze on Bilbo, looking nothing like the loving dwarf Bilbo had woken up this morning beside.

“The treasury,” Bilbo said softly, wringing his hands together nervously. If he was wrong about his suspicion and one of Thorin’s family members was hurt, Bilbo would never be able to forgive himself. “He likes gold.”

Óin scoffed, “Every dwarf likes gold, lad.”

Laura Baggins glared at the dwarf, shaking her tiny fist in the air at him. “Are you calling my grandchild a liar?”

“There’s a wild fire? Where?” Óin looked around in confusion before putting his pipe to his ear. “Did someone sound the alarms?”  

Thorin ignored the arguing couple and pulled Bilbo aside, away from the eavesdropping group. Resting his forehead against the hobbit’s, Thorin huddled close and set his large hands heavily on Bilbo’s hips. “Are you sure of this?”

“I think so,” Bilbo said, staring down at his distorted reflection on the dwarf’s armored chest. “Grandmother thinks so too. She said he talked about gold all the time and he was always making plans on how to get more of it. She doesn’t think he’d leave the Mountain without his fair share and Balin said Náli’s gold is stored in the treasury with everyone else’s. I think if he had Dis or one of your nephews, he’d have no problem getting access to it and more.”

Thorin sighed, looking as exhausted and Bilbo felt.  “There are guards loyal only to the King who are posted there. If that is where Náli went with his hostages, someone would have sent a messenger to let me know by now.”

“I-if you don’t think that’s where he--” Bilbo started to say, the surety he had at figuring out Náli’s whereabouts withering away at Thorin’s doubt. He had been so sure, so positive he was right. Everything lined up just perfectly. But Erebor was a huge Kingdom and there were many places Náli could hide that Bilbo would never know about, places he’d never been to or heard about. A dwarf would probably know better, and Thorin had at least been acquainted with Náli longer than Bilbo. He felt foolish for even getting their hopes up.

“I did not say I don’t believe you,” Thorin interrupted, tugging the hobbit’s chin up and placing a small kiss against his lips. “I wanted to know if you were _sure_.”

Bilbo mulled on it. He tried to put himself in Náli’s boots, as difficult as it was to imagine himself in the mindset of a dwarf, especially one of Náli’s wickedness. The Councilman didn’t seem overly idiotic; despite all he’d done he’d been almost clever about planning things out. If Reginard had not found the trap door and Thráin had not appeared out of nowhere with Gandalf, the end result could have been disastrous for all of them involved. It was practically by luck alone that everything had worked out in their favor.

If Náli had retreated to places he was comfortable with, like his chambers or work office, someone would have undoubtedly found him by now. There were people all over the Mountain searching for him, so there would be no obvious escape through somewhere with heavy traffic, especially if he had hostages. Náli’s best bet for escape was to wait out the searching somewhere completely concealed, where no one would think to look for him or had access to. The abandoned chambers he’d pushed Bilbo and his friends into were too obvious, and Gandalf surely would have found them by now if that was the case. The treasury was the best suggestion he could come up with.

“Yes,” Bilbo said assertively, looking up to meet Thorin’s eyes. “I believe Náli is in the treasury.”

Thorin’s expression softened as he rubbed his thumb over the hobbit’s cheek. “Okay, that is where I will look. During that time I will have some of my personal guards escort you to--”

“Don’t you dare!” Bilbo growled, clamping his fist around Thorin’s arms. “I will not be abandoned.”

The dwarf huffed like he found the hobbit’s demands amusing. “You are not being _abandoned_. I am protecting you.”

“No.” Bilbo stomped his foot and glared. “I’m not staying behind. I’m going with you.”

“ _Bilbo_ …” Thorin sighed, trying to step back so he could scold Bilbo like he was a wayward tween up to no good. Only Bilbo would not let go or be coddled, least of all by Thorin. He had every right to be there when Náli was confronted for his crimes.  

“I won’t go, and if you try to drag me off, I’ll just sneak out while your back’s turned. I’m a hobbit and we are very light on our feet, so I could do it.” Bilbo refused to be left behind. Fili, Kili, and their parents deserved his support just as much as any other, and he would be there to comfort them, just as he knew they would have for him.

Thorin stared at him, his blue-grey eye bright with fondness. He searched over Bilbo’s expression, most likely trying to garner the truth in the hobbit’s words. If Thorin had not figured out by now how stubborn the hobbit could be, he was in for a big surprise after they were married. Bagginses were known for being quite hard-headed in the Shire.

“Yer Majesty,” Bofur said, sidling up to them with his hat in his hands. “Excuse me for interrupting such important discussion between you and yer beloved there, but Ori has something to add to Mister Bilbo’s theory.”

Ori struggled as Bombur pushed him in their direction, the young dwarf clutching a gauntlet to his chest and dragging his feet. Finally, the chef grew frustrated and shoved the younger dwarf towards Thorin. Ori stumbled and blushed, awkwardly flailing in front of the King as he tried to get his balance. “U-um, well, I just wanted to say that I saw which way D-Dwalin--er, Mister Dwalin-- went.”

“Did you?” Balin asked, tipping his head forward curiously.

“Y-yes,” the younger dwarf muttered, blushing even more. Dori put an arm around Ori’s shoulder, trying to comfort his brother under all the attention he was receiving. “We were--um, standing together during the ceremony, so I noticed when he left m-my side.” As if lost in the memory, Ori gazed down at the gauntlet in his hands, gently caressing the symbol carved into the palm of it.

“Oh. _Oh_!” Balin said, rocking back on his heels with a chuckle. “I see now.”

Dori looked suspiciously from Ori to Balin, his lips turned down in distrust.  “What. What do you see?”

“Tell me Master Ori,” Thorin interrupted kindly, saving Ori from explaining and Dwalin from future retribution. “What news do you have that can help us?”

Ori was nearly purple he was blushing so badly. If Dori hadn’t his arms around him, Bilbo was sure the young dwarf would have fainted at their feet. “H-he went through those d-doors, tha-that way-y.” Ori trembled, pointed to a set of door hidden by the shadow of the large stalagmite over the throne. Bilbo peeked around Bofur to get a look at it, wondering why he’d never noticed them before.

“The main road!” Someone shouted behind them in a squeaky voice, startling the group so much that some of them jumped. Bilbo whirled around to find Reginard heading right for him, Ginnar right behind him, and neither one of them slowing down. “Bilbo, remember what Gandalf said!”

“Reg?” the hobbit blinked in surprised, bewildered by his cousin’s sudden reappearance. He’d nearly forgotten in all the fuss that the other hobbit had disappeared. Bilbo had just assumed that his cousin had found his husband and gotten distracted.

Reginard reached forward and yanked Bilbo to him, going nose to nose with the other hobbit. “Gandalf said to stay on the main road. The main road leads through those doors.” He pointed to emphasize the fact.

“And those doors lead to the treasury,” Ginnar filled in, looking proudly over his husband, “where my precious pearl swears he saw Náli retreat to. We were listening in on your conversation.”

“Really?” Bilbo asked, ignoring the admittance to eavesdropping as hope bloomed in his chest. He could not believe their fortunes. Gandalf had said to stay on the main road no matter what, and it was always wise to follow a wizard’s counsel.

“Well,” Reginard blushed, stepping back. “You told me to keep an eye out for Nali and it sure looked like him from behind. I’m not a hundred percent positive, but I’d bet my mother’s shortbread recipe that it was.”

To a hobbit that was as good as a Kingly pledge. No hobbit would risk their mother’s secret recipe for just anything. Bilbo turned to nod at Thorin. “I’m definitely sure now. The treasury is where we’ll find Náli.”

“Then it’s settled,” Thorin said loudly, stepping onto the dais. “My group and I will search the treasure hall. Balin, you will stay and command the other searches from here. I want order restored to Erebor and Náli found, _alive_ , before he can escape the Mountain.”

The elder dwarf nodded dutifully. “As you wish.”

Thorin turned towards their company. “Mister Bifur, if I could request you keep an eye on my father.” Thorin asked, looking the other dwarf over carefully. “He remembers you and your weekly talks of mathematics, and is less likely to cause a scene in your presence. I trust you to guard him at any outcome.” Bifur grunted, knocking his fist to his chest in an odd motion.

“And Bilbo…” Thorin trailed off, looking down at his intended with an exasperated smile.  

Bilbo glowered back at the dwarf. “I’m going with you.”

“As you say,” Thorin said loftily, sweeping his cape out behind him as he turned towards the congregated elves. “The ceremony must be cut short. My men will see that you are escorted safely to your chambers and I… _apologize_ for the unexpected commotion.” The way Thorin asked for forgiveness made Bilbo’s toes curl, it was such a discourteous tone of voice.

Thranduil tipped his head slightly to the side, his expression frigidly blank. “Apology accepted, _Prince_ Thorin.”

Thorin’s lips curled back in a silent snarl, but he held himself back from being outright disrespectful. He turned quickly to address Lady Galadriel, who was gently rocking baby Myrtle in her arms. “My Lady, I thank you for your assistance with the hobbits. My intended and I,” Thorin glanced over at Bilbo--who beamed back, “we appreciate what you have done.”

“It is no bother, Master Oakenshield,” the elf said softly, her eyes never leaving Myrtle. Lady Galadriel seemed wholly engrossed in cooing down at the babe, tickling the baby hobbit’s ears with her finger and earning a shrieking giggle. “I will do all I can to help yours and Master Baggins’ people. Please, do not hesitate to call on me if you need my assistance.”

Grunting, Thorin turned to address the rest of the lingering crowd in Khuzdul, the sparse soldiers in their black uniforms and silver armor were waiting for their orders patiently, standing at attention in two rows before the throne. Bilbo tried to listen as Thorin gave his commands, though he had no real understanding of what was said, he soon got lost in the rasping words spilling from Thorin’s lips. Just watching Thorin give out orders in his native tongue caused his heart to beat rapidly and a blush to rise to his cheeks. Dressed up in his shining armor before the throne, the dwarf King looked very majestic and regal. Thorin looked and sounded every bit the King he was meant to be.

“Mister Baggins,” Thranduil said suddenly, bending low to whisper in the hobbit’s ear. “May I express my deepest regret that I had not helped you when you needed it the most.”

“What?” Bilbo whipped around to gape at the elf.

Thranduil’s usually cool expression turned contrite. “I had seen you enter the Mountain with the dwarf who would hurt you and at the time, in my heart I knew something was not right, but I did nothing. I continued my procession and I did not bother with any thought to your safety.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, snapping his jaw shut, though he was still a bit stunned by the Elvenking’s sudden apology. “ _Oh!_ No, no, no! Its fine, Milord. I would never have expected you to know--”

“Please, Mister Baggins, do not try to say I have no culpability in your kidnapping. I can only hope that one day you accept my apology for not being a true friend to you like I said I would. I have been most negligent, and one day, if you ever find it in your kind heart, I hope you shall forgive me.” Thranduil bowed his head, his long blond hair falling over his shoulder like a silvery waterfall and hiding his sad expression.

Bilbo sputtered, completely flummoxed by the Elvenking’s apology. “Um, yes? Of course! I would never dream of holding _anything_ against you, Lord Thranduil. How could you have ever know what would happen? Elves do not have the foresight to know what would come about!”

“I suppose,” Thranduil stood up straight, his pale blue eyes glittering down like cerulean gemstones on the hobbit. “Thank you though, your forgiveness means all the world to me.”

Still a bit flustered by the elf, Bilbo wrung his hands together nervously and tried in vain not to blush. His head felt like it might explode from all the blood rushing to it. “Yes, um, you too--I mean, your apology, though really you had nothing to apologize for, Milord. But thank you, nonetheless. I did not mean to worry you or anybody else.”

“Thranduil,” the Elvenking said, tipping his head to the side and smiling gently. “As you are elf-friend, I insist that you call me by that name.”

“Oh! Uh…please call me Bilbo, like I said befo--”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, his voice ringing out in the quiet of the atrium. The hobbit quickly turned towards his dwarf, surprised to see the speech was over and that most of the guards were dispersing. Thorin alone was waiting for him. The others were already heading off towards the doors Ori had pointed towards, weapons at the ready. Thorin continued, “If you wish to stay here where it’s safer, I will not begrudge you, but I’d prefer if you keep company with _others_ who are better armed to _protect_ you.” Thorin’s eyes darted towards the Elvenking and his lips barely twitched into an irritated frown.

“No!” Bilbo squeaked, patting himself down nervously. “No, sorry, I’m ready to go! Just let me…um, should I bring something along or should I just….” Bilbo looked down around his feet and whirled in a circle, searching for something but not quite sure what. He didn’t feel like he was completely ready to stumble into a potential fight, at least not without a shield or a walking-stick for a weapon.

“Bilbo.” Thranduil’s pleasant voice called out before the hobbit could step away. “May I suggest you take a sword? To defend yourself, in case Master Thorin cannot shield you from danger for a second time. I have one about your size you can borrow. If you wait a moment I will have Galion retrieve it from my rooms.”

“Um, no thank you.” Bilbo said hurriedly, aggrieved by the very _unsubtle_ insults being thrown about over his head. He sighed loudly. He couldn’t understand why Thranduil and Thorin disliked each other so much. As rulers for two Kingdoms so close to each other, one would think they’d at least attempt to get along for their people’s sake. “I’ll be fine. My friends will be there, so I am not too worried. But I should probably have a shield or something, just in case.”

Thranduil nodded and for a moment Bilbo thought he’d leave the matter alone, but then he made a motion with his hand and Tauriel stepped forward. Unlike the majority of the elves decked out in shimmer dresses and long extravagant cloaks, she wore a silken cream dress shirt and black leather trousers with knee-high polished boots, her attire simple but elegant.

“Please,” the Elvenking said, “take my most trusted guard, so she may protect you from any harm that may potentially befall you.”

“I will gladly lend my bow to your cause,” Tauriel said, bowing towards both Bilbo and Thorin, “to protect your family and to defend Master Baggins.”

Initially surprised by the respect Tauriel showed him, Thorin had to work up the fowl disposition to glower towards her. “Elf, we need no help from you. This is a matter between dwarves.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo admonished, ready to begin the search. They did not have time to sit around and argue. “I trust her and we need all the help we can get. We do not know the sort of situation we may be walking into. For Dis and Hept and the boys’ sake, let her come along.”

Thorin sneered in distaste, but waved her over nonetheless. “Fine.”

Tauriel smiled happily down at the hobbit, shouldering a wooden bow that looked much too small for her. “Thank you.”

“We go now, time is of the essence,” Thorin said, reaching out and snagging Bilbo’s hand in his. “If we encounter trouble, stay behind me.” They walked together quickly towards the hidden doors where the others were waiting, Tauriel following. Gimli looked ready to pursue them, but Prince Legolas stopped him with a question about his short beard.

“Yes, alright.” Bilbo would rather not get into any trouble at all, but he knew that was unlikely if Dwalin had not already neutralized Náli as a threat. The Councilman did not seem the sort who would easily surrender after all the work and planning he put into getting his revenge. “So are we just going to head right for the treasury? No strategizing or checking ahead for traps he might have laid?”

Glóin snorted, hefting his battle axe to his shoulder. “Naw, laddie. Best to confront it all head on.”

“That doesn’t sound very smart,” Bilbo said in dismay. Tauriel choked back a snort and had to look away before the others saw her laughing.

The doors opened slowly, their hinges old and rusty with disuse. The corridor ahead of them was dark, the lanterns hanging from the ceiling broken and the torches snuffed out. There was a wind howling through the tunnels that sounded somewhat like ghosts crying out in agony. It didn’t look like a pleasant tunnel to travel down at all, and Bilbo had been down some very unpleasant ones recently. The hobbit shivered, clutching Thorin’s hand tightly in his. For a moment, he thought about retracting his earlier demands and staying behind with Thranduil and the others.

Ori stuffed the gauntlet in his pocket as his hands started to tremble. “So who is going down first?”

“Um….” Bombur hunched his shoulder up towards his ears, his forehead breaking out in a cold sweat. “Would his Majesty like to lead the way?”

Thorin huffed, rolling his eyes at the others fear. “Fine. Follow me.”

Tauriel was at Bilbo’s side swiftly, helping him hold the door open as Thorin released Bilbo’s hand so he could pull his sword from his sheath and hold it at the ready. “Be careful,” she said, nudging him forward. Bilbo turned to look behind him one last time, glancing over the small group that had stayed behind. Lobelia and Loni were listening carefully to something Thranduil was saying, and Gimli and Legolas were arguing good naturedly as they headed towards the front gates, Reg and Ginnar were hugging each other, lost in the moment of being reunited.

For a moment, his Bagginses sense came over him, reminding him that hobbits were not ones for confrontation, particularly if the confrontation might lead to his own death. Thorin would not think ill of him for staying behind, especially after everything Náli had put the hobbit through already, and in fact Thorin would likely be insistent on it if he knew the truth of Náli’s sick fixation on Bilbo. But Bilbo was also a Took and he would never forgive himself of giving into the fear of confronting the scheming dwarf for all the grief he had caused Bilbo’s loved ones.

With one last lingering look over the remaining crowd, Bilbo’s eyes met those of Lady Galadriel’s. Her words the previous evening whispered pasted his ears like she was right behind him, leaning over his shoulder. Her warmth permeated his body like the summer sun, her presence almost physical, as if she was right beside him urging him forward. Her company reminded Bilbo that he was already brave, brave enough to stand at Thorin’s side through any hardship, that they’ve already encountered the worst that could be done to them and survived. They’d been separated and betrayed, and yet they’d still found their way back to each other’s side with hardly a scratch. There was nothing Náli could do to them that would harm them if they were together. Their love was more powerful than Náli’s cruel jealousy.

With his heart lighter than ever before, Bilbo straightened his spine and looked ahead. He wasn’t just any Took or Baggins, he was Bilbo Baggins, son to Belladonna and Bungo Baggins, friend to elves and wizards, future consort of the King of Erebor. Bilbo knew that he was courageous enough to confront Náli, he first just had to work up the nerve to take that first step forward.

“Bilbo?” Bofur leaned forward, peeking around Tauriel to see what was holding the hobbit up and cutting off Galadriel’s stare. Blinking away the fog in his head, Bilbo looked around and noticed Thorin had already descended down the tunnel alone. The others seemed anxious to join him.

Bilbo started, shaking himself out of his apprehensive state. “Let us go,” he said with confidence, his jaw clenching with determination.

“You first Mister Baggins,” Tauriel said, smiling down at him like she held a secret.

Bilbo stepped into the gloomy tunnel, trying to tip-toe around the broken glass and crystals shards he could see. Bofur scurried to his side, directing the hobbit where not to step when the corridor got too dark for him to see on his own. Only the vague golden light at the end of the hall helped Bilbo navigate where he was going and he clung tightly to the arm of Bofur’s tunic.

“Don’t worry, Bilbo, everything will be fine” Bofur said jovially, which is when three dwarves in gold armor came charging around a corner at them.

Thorin was the first to meet them, hefting his large sword over his head and bringing it down hard on one of the attackers head. The sicken sound of metal hitting bone shocked Bilbo, but he had little time to ponder the horror of it before Bofur was pushing him back towards the others and meeting the second attacker.

It didn’t seem a very fair fight to Bilbo, who had stumbled back into Tauriel’s legs and as he watched in fear Thorin and Bofur dealt with the remaining assailants. Bofur was handling himself pretty well with just a wooden shaft to defend himself, laughing aloud as the dwarf in gold armor grew frustrated with his ineffective attacks. Without the heavy armor to weigh him down, Bofur was easily able to sidestep the attacks, striking out and hitting the unprotected parts of his enemy without incurring any injuries himself. Bombur must have gotten tired of watching his brother play with their foe and swiftly slammed a frying pan over the attackers head, causing the dwarf to pass out. By the end of it, Thorin had easily dispatched the third dwarf before the hobbit could so much as blink in disbelief.

“A-alright,” Bilbo stuttered, wiping his sweaty hands nervously on his thighs. “Um, is everyone okay?”

Óin looked the two unconscious dwarves over, popping their helmets off to examine their head injuries.

“Their armor is strange,” Dori commented, picking up one of the abandoned helmets. As he turned the armor over in his hands, the solid gold of the metal glittered like fish scales in the faded light. It was certainly odd to Bilbo, who didn’t have much experience with armor in the first place, but it without doubt didn’t look like something any of the usual guards of Erebor wore. It was much too gaudy.  

Thorin thundered towards them, swiping one of the bloody helmets up in his hands. “This is from the treasury, ceremonial armor made before even Thrór’s time. They’ve tried to scrape the Durin’s crest off of it.”

Glóin chuckled darkly, “Not much of a dwarf if they didn’t know gold’s not good for body armor.”

“So does t-that means we’re heading in the right direction?” Ori asked, a bit wild eyed. He seemed just as shaken by the attack as Bilbo was, though he looked somewhat like he was handling it better than the hobbit was.

“I assume so,” Thorin growled, tossing the helmet aside. “Nali and his men would have heard the battle by now and must know that we are coming. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

The gruesome grin on Thorin’s face alarmed Bilbo and he ended up dragging his feet as the others all sprinted towards the end of the tunnel, yelling and hollering in delight. Thorin shouted out in Khuzdul, charging ahead with the others with nary a thought towards the casualty lying at his feet. Tauriel put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, helping him around the dead body of the dwarf when Bilbo could not even glance at it without feeling sick.

“In war, there are some grisly sights we must stomach,” the elf said gently, pausing at the end of the tunnel to peek around the corner. “Prince Thorin was kind enough to end his life quickly. Traitors do not fare so well in Mirkwood.”

“I did not know Mirkwood had many enemies.” Bilbo said, the nauseous feeling in his stomach gurgling unsettlingly at her words. Her admittance only emphasized the stark differences of their culture. Even to elves, the sight of death did not seem to faze them. It boggled Bilbo’s mind that just a moment ago the dwarf guard had been alive, and now he lay dead and discarded on the ground. Something in Bilbo’s chest tightened at the thought and tears prickled at his eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping at the tears. “I’m just not use to it.”

Tauriel nodded absentmindedly, her focus on whatever lay ahead of them. Bilbo looked past her and into the chamber below them. What he saw took his breath away and flushed any thought of death from his mind. Past the open doorway and into the open chamber hall was a towering hill of gold below them. A _literal_ _hill of gold_.  A hill far larger than even Bilbo’s grassy hill back home at Bag End.

He had never seen anything like it before.  

“Oh…” He breathed, blinking wildly. He couldn’t be sure if he was so overwhelmed by the sight he was seeing double or not, but it possibly looked like there was more than just _one_ hill of gold. “Is that… _all_ gold?”

“I believe so,” Tauriel answered, moving to the other side of the doorway. Next to them was a balcony that led to some stairs down below. Since the others were not waiting about, Bilbo assumed they had headed down to the ground level of the chamber.

“I’ve never seen so much--” The words died on Bilbo’s lips as he walked towards the balcony railings. There was a trail of blood and a torn black tunic of an Ereborian guard uniform snagged on the gold railing, but no actual body in sight. Dread filled Bilbo and he quietly despaired. He feared the worst might have befallen Thorin’s loyal guards.

Tauriel glanced quickly over the railing into the treasure hall. “I can see a group down below. Twenty seven men, who do not appear to owe their allegiance to Prince Thorin, and there are five more that are bound. One of them is the Princess.”

“Dis?” Bilbo jerked his gaze away from the smear of blood. “Is she alright? She isn’t hurt is she?”

The elf shook her head. “No. But another is. Male, balding, with tattoos.”

“Dwalin!” With little disregard for his own safety, Bilbo hurried past the balcony and towards the stairs. Tauriel reached for him, but missed by mere inches.

With every set of stairs there was a window and open corridor to another balcony, and each one he passed revealed even more gold in the treasury, piles of it, as far as the eye could see. Coins, armor, jewelry, anything the imagination could think of. The mounds of it glittered in the torchlight, shimmering like a vast golden sea. Bilbo stumbled over his own feet as he ran. He could not believe that something like this had been in Erebor this whole time, but he would not let himself become distracted by the awe-inspiring sight of it all. He had to get to the ground level where the others were.

Bilbo traveled down five sets of stairs to get to the bottom. He caught sight of Bombur first, his huge body blocking the last door and entrance to the treasure hall.

“What’s going on?” the hobbit asked, standing on his toes to get a glimpse. “Did any of you see Dwalin? Is he okay?”

“Shh!” Dori hissed, glaring under Bombur’s arm at him.

“But--?” Bilbo started to say, only an eerily familiar voice rang out and gave him pause. It would be a voice he’d hear in his nightmares for years to come.

“And where is he now?” Náli’s laughed, his tone filled with antagonism. “Where is your cowardly halfling lover? Did I frighten him so badly he decided to leave the Mountain for good? Did he leave you, Thorin Oakenshield? Or did he find someone better? Maybe an elf lord?”

Despite his terror at confronting Nali again, Bilbo knew he could not stay hidden. He pushed frantically at Bombur’s back, trying in vain to get the dwarf to move out of the way. “Please, I must go to him. Thorin needs me!”

“He’s only trying to bait him,” Bombur whispered, steadying his feet against the stone floor. “Thorin cannot divide his attention between all of ya’ll. It’s better you stay here where it’s safe.”

“You don’t understand--” Bilbo said, seething in anger through his teeth. He couldn’t even see what was happening or what was going on. He had to know, had to see for himself that Thorin’s family was okay and that Thorin wasn’t going to do something half-witted because he was angry.

Náli continued to taunt Thorin as the dwarf King stayed silent, his words cutting like a sharp blade against Bilbo’s heart. “Did you know he begged? Said he’d do anything to save his friends, _anything_. I had half a mind to force him to his knees right there in front of his friends to prove his convictions. He has such pretty lips, red as a ruby. But I do not want your second hand scraps, Thorin Oakenshield, I have more pride than that. He’s hardly worth the trouble you go through for him. A halfling like that is only worth the warmth they provide in your bed for a night.”

Dori scoffed aloud and Bilbo did not like what Náli was insinuating. Sure Bilbo would have done anything to save his friends, but he had some dignity. He rather doubted Bofur or the others would have let _that_ happen. Bilbo was sure Náli was just saying these things to work Thorin into a fury so violent he couldn’t see straight, and that’s why Bilbo was sure he had to be there at Thorin’s side for this confrontation.

Searching through his pockets, Bilbo withdrew the lovespoon. It was the only weapon he had on hand. So without giving himself a moment to second guess his plan, he whopped Bombur over the head with it.

“Ouch!” The dwarf yelped, jumping away from Bilbo’s attack. Seeing the doorway open to him, Bilbo dashed through before someone else could stop him and rushed to Thorin’s side.

“Ah, and here he is now,” Náli sneered, his lips curling back cruelly. “I must say I’m rather surprised.”

Bilbo glared, his fists clenching at his sides. “Why? Because I outwitted you? I’m not surprised, you’re somewhat dense in my opinion.”  

Now that he could see everyone, Bilbo took in the scene before him quickly. Náli’s unkind face was scratched up and bloody, his red beard unbraided and tangled. The once gleaming gold armor that protected his rich clothes was scuffed with abrasions. Náli’s guards looked to be of a similar appearance, most of them in the garish gold armor and sporting a few injuries among them.

Dwalin was tied up and grinning with a bloody lip, the guards surrounding him looking the worse for wear. Dis was carefully bounded to a chair off away from the others, while Hept and his sons were secured to a column, kicking and cursing with ties in their mouths. Wretchedly, and perhaps the most unexpected appearance, was Master Pumpernickel. The cat was halfway covered by a golden bowl near the feet of the guards, lying at an odd angle and unresponsive.

Bilbo cried out and tried to rush to his tenant’s aid, but Thorin held him back, pushing the hobbit behind him instead. “How could you!” Bilbo yelled, trying to squirm free of Thorin’s grip. “How could you hurt such a helpless creature?”

“Helpless?” Following his gaze, Náli snarled, “That creature is no less helpless than a viper.”

“So you were almost defeated by a _cat_ ,” Thorin laughed meanly, keeping his eyes on the dwarf. “No wonder you have to turn to deceitful tactics to win. You are greedy, pathetic, immoral traitor. You do not even deserve to be called a petty dwarf for all the honor you lack.”

Náli’s face turned red with anger, his hooked nose looking like one of Farmer Maggot’s exotic purple carrots. The dwarf trussed back his cloak and started to pace in front of Dis, a clear reminder to Thorin about the precious hostage he held. “Do not talk to me of honor. The line of Durin lost their honor years ago when your grandfather went mad with power. Your perversions for the halfling lover only emphasize your own insanity. You are as cursed as your forefather before you and I would rather burn Erebor to the ground than risk you sitting on the throne.”

“Thorin, he plans to--”Dwalin strained to his feet under him, but was knocked over by a blow to the head. He moaned weakly and tried to shake it off, only to fall over on his side in pain. Ori squeaked from somewhere behind Bilbo, and Bofur made a comforting noise in response.

Náli laughed at the rage the action invoked in their company. When his pacing brought him close enough to Dwalin, he kicked out at the helpless dwarf, howling in even more laughter when Bilbo had to restrain Thorin from charging the Councilman right then and there.

“Oh hush up!” Bilbo growled at Náli, yanking on Thorin’s arm until he settled. “You keep talking like you’re doing everybody a favor by committing treason, but you’re just a bitter old man! You couldn’t take it that my grandmother rejected you and then Prince Frerin defeated you in battle. So you schemed and planned revenge for your own selfish reasons. It’s over for you now, so tell the truth! Your men should know the true reason of why you’ve endangering their lives.”

“Lies?” the dwarf echoed, turning his livid gaze on Bilbo. “You filthy creature, what would you know. Laura loved me, but that Baggins scoundrel _lied_ to her, spilled deceitful fabrications in her glorious ears and then had that foolish Prince defend him. She was mine and he took her from me.”

“She wasn’t,” Bilbo said, stepping out from behind Thorin. “She never loved you. Mungo, my grandfather, was her One and she’s sorry if she might have made you think otherwise, but she was always going to marry him. She knew you never really loved her, you were too obsessed with your gold to ever be true to her.”

Náli froze and turned his whole body slowly to gawk at Bilbo with wide, wild eyes. Bilbo trembled at the crazed focus placed on him, yet he stood his ground. Lifting his chin defiantly, Bilbo glared back at Náli, barely resisting the urge to hold Thorin’s hand in comfort. He knew he could do this, knew he could handle Náli on his own. He just had to give himself a chance to prove to himself and everyone watching.

“True to her? She thought I would never be true to her?” Náli said slowly, his voice scarily composed. “I have loved her all these years. I love her still! It has driven me mad with wanting. I see her face in every hobbit’s I see, her laughter in the wind, her blush in the bloom of the spring flowers. If that does not prove how _true_ to her I am, she is obviously the one at fault.”

“She said she’s sorry,” Bilbo repeated steadily, “she’s didn’t mean to cause you pain, but she loved my grandfather more than you could imagine and it would have been deceitful to accept your proposal when her heart belonged to another.”

“She’s _sorry_?” Náli choked, his voice high and hysterical.

Bilbo nodded. “Yes. And I’m sorry too. I know you were upset about what happened and it’s what brought about events that happened today, but I’m willing to put it in the past. I forgive you for what you did and if you apologize to Thorin, I’ll make sure he gives you a light sentence.”

“Is the idiot trying to _reason_ with him?” Dwalin asked no one in particular, sounding dazed.

“You…you forgive me?” Náli inquired skeptically, taking a step towards the hobbit. Bilbo didn’t sense he was in immediate danger, especially with an armed dwarf King right next to him, but he was on his guard nonetheless as the Councilmen drew closer. “You halflings are so gentle hearted. So willing to show your belly instead of fighting for what you want.”

Pursing his lips, Bilbo wasn’t sure how to reply to that. He was pretty sure he was being insulted, only it didn’t sound offensive to his hobbit sensibilities. “What?” Bilbo asked, cocking his head to the side. Thorin flinched, his arm jerking subtlety towards the hobbit.

Náli continued, his expression wistful with longing. “You do look so much like her. The spitting image. You can still be mine, just take my hand. I’d worship you, cover you with jewels, and layer you in the finest of golden fabrics. You’d never want for anything and you would only have to be mine. Your precious Shire would be free of the tyranny of the mad King. Stand by my side and together we can defeat the line of Durin.”

Planting his hands on his hips, Bilbo leveled a steady frown at the dwarf. “No.”

Náli’s progression towards him stopped. “No?”

“No, I won’t. I love Thorin, he’s my One and we will be married despite all your attempts to sabotage us. I will not desert him, nor will I let you hurt any of our family or friends. I might not be a dwarf and I _know_ I’m not a warrior, but I’ll pick up a sword myself before I let you do anything to harm any of them.”

Náli’s jaw dropped at the vehemence in Bilbo’s tone. Thorin stared at the hobbit like he’d never seen him before, his eyes wide and gleaming with fascination. Bilbo blush under the scrutiny.They were in a serious situation and he couldn’t get distracted because Thorin was gazing at him with hearts in his eyes.

Working his jaw closed, Náli growled thru his teeth at them. “You choose this beardless whelp? This lying, treacherous princeling over someone who could give you everything you’ve ever wanted and more?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said simply, wrinkling his nose up prudishly. “It’s not about getting everything I want. I admit Thorin and I are different and we don’t always get along, but he makes me happy. My love isn’t a reward--you can’t just win it in a duel. I care about Thorin, I’m committed to him, and when the blush of passion fades and sparkof fervor withers, he will still be the only one I want to plant my garden with and grow old with. We accept each other’s faults, whatever they may be, and it might not always be perfect to everyone else, but it’s perfect to us.”

Náli sputtered and tugged at his messy beard, seemingly overcome with a fit of frenzy by Bilbo’s answer. One of the guards surrounding Dis dropped his arms, glancing towards another as Náli started to pace wildly again. The Councilman looked crazed and demented, muttering to himself and twitching violently at nothing. Thorin pulled Bilbo against his chest, placing a quick kiss against the hobbit’s head while he watched the other dwarf cautiously.

“Thank you,” Thorin whispered, nuzzling his nose in Bilbo’s hair.

“Everything I said was true,” Bilbo replied, shrugging.

Thorin dragged the end of his sword against the ground and then pointed it at Náli. His deep voice was eerily calm and collected in comparison to Náli’s ranting. “Fight me. Here and now, just you and I. If I win, you will release my family and take your men and leave my Mountain, never to return. You will never harm another dwarf or hobbit in your lifetime, and you will leave Bilbo and I in peace.”

Náli raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “And if I win?”

Scoffing, Thorin shrugged off his heavy cloak. He seemed completely confident about the impending battle. “That will never happen.”

Following the King’s routine, Náli tore off his own cloak, thrusting it into one of his guard’s startled arms. “So self-assured for a Prince who will never be King. When I win, I will take your Kingdom and your lover, despite his adamant confession of _true love_. The Durin’s will be exiled and all this accumulated wealth will be mine.”

“We will see.” Bundling Bilbo back towards their friends, Thorin crouched and startled to walk in a circle, staying opposite of Náli until the dwarf was properly ready to fight. Náli fussed with his armor before he unsheathed his sword, which happened to be the blade Bilbo had commissioned for Thorin.

“That’s--!” Bilbo tried to point out and was hushed by Bofur, who gestured with his head at Thorin.

“Quiet, you don’t want to distract Thorin.”

Gritting his teeth in anger, Bilbo wrapped his arms tightly around his middle. Afraid he might shake apart with a combination of nerves and anger. He didn’t like this. He didn’t want Thorin to fight Náli. Not because he thought his dwarf would lose, but something just didn’t sit right with Bilbo. Náli seemed too confident about fighting Thorin, even though he’d seen for himself Thorin win the sword competition a few days before. And the fact that he wanted to use Bilbo’s small dagger against Thorin’s large broadsword, it just didn’t make sense. Náli had to have something up his sleeve.

The first strike was made by Thorin, who rushed towards Náli with his sword at the ready. Náli blocked it easily, using both his hands to buffer the assault as the handle of his dagger caught the edge of the sword. Thorin twirled out of the way quickly, never allowing the other dwarf a chance to strike back while the underside of his arm was unprotected.

“Well come on,” Náli taunted, smiling merrily. “Let’s get this over with.”

Bilbo wasn’t the only one suspicious of Náli’s sudden confidence. Thorin’s brows furrowed and he was more cautious about charging the Councilman the next time. He paced himself slowly in a circle, barely flinching when Náli pretended to make a motion towards him.

Náli lunged forward, feinting to the left before striking out on the right instead. Thorin got his sword behind him in time to block the attack, but it left his middle open. Náli took his chance and kicked out, kneeing the other dwarf in the groin.

“Foul!” Bofur yelled, waving his weapon at the fighters. “That’s not honorable fight’n.”

Giggling manically, Náli danced away as Thorin tried to catch his breath. “There are no rules of honor if the one you’re fighting lacks his beard and braids.”  

Ori stomped his foot angrily. “That’s cheating! There are no such rules!”

Thorin waved their concern off, staggering to his feet and holding his sword out ready to fight. His expression still looked pained, but he was determined to finish as champion. Náli scoffed indifferently, practically skipping as they continued their circling.

Now that he knew being on defensive wouldn’t work, Thorin barely waited a minute before attacking again. He swiped his sword at Náli’s feet, sending a scattering of coins into the dwarf’s face. The sound of the gold hitting Náli’s armor was like bells, echoing loudly in the empty hallway. It distracted Náli enough though that Thorin’s next blow landed a mark, jarring against Náli’s shoulder and sending the dwarf to the floor in a roll. Quick as a snake, Thorin struck again, over and over again, each hit landing somewhere that had the Councilman yelping in pain. Náli had to reach out with his hand and jerk Thorin’s leg out from under him to get a moment of ceasefire where he could get back to his feet.

Spitting blood at his feet, Náli shucked off his dented armor, leaving only his chest plate and gauntlets on.

“You want to play dirty?” Náli asked, flipping his dagger in the air. The blue gems flash brightly in the golden light, and Bilbo dearly wished that the blade wasn’t being used against Thorin. The dagger had been meant as a gesture of devotion, and now it was being used in such a cruel way against them. After Náli was dealt with, Bilbo didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at the weapon the same again.

Thorin grinned meanly back, “You started it.”  

Náli laughed and then threw the dagger at Thorin. Barely dodging out of the way in time, the sharp blade cut at Thorin’s thigh and embedded itself into a wooden chest behind him. Náli then jumped toward him and punched the other dwarf in the face. Thorin to rock back on his heels, stunned by the blow and too slow to avoid the next one, his head cracking to the side as Náli’s punch sent him reeling into a pile of gold blocks.

Cursing in Khuzdul and wiping away the blood running from his nose, Thorin almost slipped on the gold coins scattered at their feet. Bilbo felt his heart jump up into his throat, worried and concerned by how hard blows from Náli had been to Thorin. The duel should have been in Thorin’s favor, he had stamina and strength, a better sword, but Náli’s attacks were landing harder and weakening the other dwarf quicker than he could defend himself.

“Don’t relying on your sword so bloody much, ya idiot!” Dwalin yelled from the sidelines. “Stop treat’n it like a princely duel and start fighting like you’re in a war. Don’t let him win because ya are being a royal twerp!”

Thorin shook off the lightheadedness, swaying from side to side as he settled back on his feet and took in his surroundings. Squaring his shoulders at Dwalin’s words, a visible transformation went through the dwarf King. The once precise and measured stances became somewhat chaotic to Bilbo’s untrained eyes. Thorin did not appropriately position himself and level his weapon at Náli like he did previously in each attack, and instead paced in a circle like a wolf on the hunt, his eyes grimly fierce and a growl rumbling in his chest.

“So you will resort to barbarous attacks?” Náli asked, smiling and showing off his bloody gums. He yanked the dagger out of the wooden chest and wiped Thorin’s blood off on his trousers. Their circling had brought the traitorous dwarf closer to their group of friends, and if Bilbo didn’t know how much this fight meant to Thorin, he might have seize upon the chance to incapacitate Náli from behind without anyone else getting hurt. He had his spoon at the ready just in case.  

Thorin cocked his head to the side, as if remembering a thought. “That’s right, you were never at the Battle of Azanulbizar. You hid like a coward in your tent and made excuses. You have never shed blood in a _real_ battle.”

Náli flushed, clenching his fist angrily at his side. “I was there!”

“Did you fight?”

Even Náli’s guards looked interested in the answer, their weapons lowered or tucked away as the two dueled. It seemed whatever conclusion was wrought today in battle, would decide where their loyalty lied.

“It doesn’t matter if I fought or not! I was there!”

This time it was Thorin’s turn to laugh before he volleyed a multitude of sword strikes and kicks at the other dwarf. He fought dirty, encroaching in the other dwarf’s space and attacking in any way he could. Thorin elbowed the Councilman in the head, kneed him in the side while he was bent over, using the handle of his sword to strike at Náli’s head again. Náli coughed, falling to the floor and rolling up in a ball. Thorin didn’t even stop then, he kicked at the dwarf while he was down, snarling murderous in Khuzdul.

“Enough, enough!” Náli cried out, curling up in ball to protect his middle.

Stumbling back, Thorin lowered his sword. “You yield?”

“Hah,” Náli laughed, wheezing as he got to his feet. “Never. Never will I yield to a Durin again.”

Glóin hissed at Bilbo’s side, shaking like he was waiting for just the right moment to jump in and join the fight. “That’s underhanded. Pretending to give up like that so Thorin will let off.”  

Thorin growled and Bilbo’s attention whipped back to the fight. Náli picked up a heavy looking gold vase, and he lobbed it at Thorin’s head. The King rolled out of the way, but Náli was already picking up the next item from the pile of gold next to him, tossing them at Thorin with accurate precision. A heavy music box hit Thorin in the jaw, right where he had a bruise already purpling on his skin.

“Thorin!” Bilbo yelled, jerking forward as if to run to his lover’s side. Both Bofur and Glóin grabbed hold of his arms, holding him in place.

“How sweet,” Náli sneered, looking Bilbo up and down. “He’s so worried for you. I can only assume he doesn’t have much faith that you will win, Thorin.”

“Take that back!” Bilbo protested, kicking out as Bofur and Gloin held him up. “I have every bit of faith that Thorin will win and….and he’ll beat you so hard your beard will fall right off in shame!”

“Bilbo,” Thorin said calmly, rubbing at his jaw. “It’s fine. Settle down and let me handle this. This duel will be over with shortly.”

“Oh…okay,” Bilbo faltered, going lax in the dwarves hold.

Náli laughed again, his sleazy smile making the hobbit shiver in revulsion. “The halfling is so pliant at your command. No wonder you enjoy bedding him.”

Bilbo pursed his lips together and puffed out his cheeks, fighting himself not to respond to Náli’s taunting. The insults were meant to bother them, to get either or both of them too worked up that they wouldn’t be able to think straight, so Bilbo knew he’d do best just to ignore them. But it was so hard. He didn’t want to listen to Náli talk about their private life so crudely and in public like that. He had no right!

“Your fight is with me,” Thorin reminded the other dwarf, taking a jab at Náli’s back.

Again the fighting started up again and Bilbo felt his heart jump into his throat. As many hits as Thorin got in, Náli was just as crafty to get some of his own in as well. They were both sporting cuts and bruises after a few short minutes, though it felt like it went on forever. Thorin soon had a cut to his forehead, across the crown of his brow, and he had to switch his sword to the other hand when Náli got too close with the dagger and sliced across his knuckles. Náli now at least seemed to be faring the worst, limping constantly and leaning to the left where Thorin had kicked hard at his hip with his steel toed boot.

“Do you know where I got this sword?” Náli asked, staggering back and caressing the bloody blade of Bilbo’s dagger.

“Yes,” Thorin grunted, not rising to the bait. “It is Bilbo’s. He had it made to be presented to me in the final day of our courting. You took it from him and threatened him with it.”

“Oh, so you do know.” The Councilman laughed through his panting, dropping his arms limply and pointing the blade at the ground. “Well, then I imagine you will understand why I am going to do the right thing and give it back to him.”

Everyone halted in confusion, even Thorin paused to blink slowly in puzzlement. Then Náli turned around and thrust the blade into Bilbo’s belly.

“Ah…” Bilbo breathed, eyes wide with surprise as his hands went up to grasp the handle of the dagger. Náli jumped back with a smile, jerking out of the way as Glóin and Bofur both lunged for him. Bilbo looked down at the weapon sticking out of him, deliriously confused about what had just happened.

“Bilbo!” Everyone shouted, the sound of it echoing through the treasure hall. Thorin dropped his sword and rushing to the hobbit’s side, his yelling the loudest of all of them. Dori reach Bilbo first, catching him as he stumbled backward in surprise, holding the hobbit and they both lurched towards the ground. Thorin fell to his knees next to him, skidding across the gold coins and almost colliding with Dori.

“Bilbo,” Thorin stammered, the color draining from his face. His hands hovered hesitatingly over the wound, flapping uselessly and unsure where to touch that wouldn’t cause pain. “No, no, no,” Thorin moaned, tears slipping between his lashes. “Not Bilbo, please, Mahal, not this, don’t let it end like this.”

“You didn’t expect that!” Náli jeered, scooping up a handful of gold and tossing it into the air over them. “Long live the King! I shall treasure this moment always. You should have known if I couldn’t have him, I would never let you have him either, Thorin. Really, you are so gulli-- _ulp_!

Náli suddenly fell to the ground hard, an arrow embedded in his back of his neck. His fingers twitched and he blinked wildly, but he made no move to get back up. Bilbo stared at him, watched as he continued to gasp for breath like a fish out of water. Náli wasn’t dead, at least not yet, but he wasn’t getting up again either.

What sounded like rushing waterfall filled Bilbo’s ears and time seemed to slow down. His gaze wandered away from the Councilman and moved almost uncontrollably over the others. He felt like he was tumbling head over heels down the Mountain, dizzy as the earth slipped out from under his feet.

No one rushed to aid Náli, instead their attention was wholly focused on Bilbo. Even Náli’s hired guards seemed concerned, stepping away from their charges to peek over the companies shoulders for a look. Nori appeared out of nowhere, cutting Hept free first before helping the boys. Dis simply stood up and walked away, right into the arms of her husband and son. Sometime during the duel she’d slipped from her bindings, but not wanting to distract Thorin, she hadn’t moved from her spot. The reunited family pressed their foreheads together, smiling and whispering softly to each other. Hept placed a gentle hand over Dis’ belly and the Princess smiled back.

Dwalin used Thorin’s discarded blade to cut himself loose, scooping up Master Pumpernickel in his arms before rushing over to them. The cat lifting his head weakly and mewled softly. A rush of relief traveled through Bilbo. He was so happy to know the creature was alive.

“ _Bilbo_ ,” Thorin said, his voice trembling with sobs as he hunched over the hobbit. Bilbo gasped and turned his attention back to his beloved, alarmed to see Thorin lying next to him. Last he remembered the dwarf had been hovering over the dagger sticking out of his belly. “Bilbo, everything will be f-fine. I promise. Don’t move. Don’t pull the blade o-out. Keep still. Please. _Please_.”

Bilbo was confused to find himself laying down, his head pillowed in Dori’s lap as the others bent over him. Ori was in the process of unwinding his scarf, offering it noisily to Óin as a bandage to stanch the bleeding. Bofur was flapping his hands uselessly around the handle of the dagger, too scared and too worried about touching the hobbit and making his wound worse. Dis eventually found her way over to them, making room through them and dropping to her knees next to Bilbo’s hip before taking up his hand. She placed a gentle kiss on the back of his knuckles.

“Please, Mister Baggins, do not pass into the halls of Aulë before your time. Don’t close your eyes. Stay here with my brother. Stay here with us.” Her beautiful blue eyes started to well with tears.

Bilbo blinked slowly. “Um… alright?”

“He’s in shock!” Óin hollered, pulling some frankly archaic and horrifying medical utensils out of his coat pockets and setting them next to Bilbo’s head. “Don’t touch him. Ya don’t want to jar the wound. Call for healers! I’ll need help! And don’t forget to ask for a stretcher to take him to the infirmary!”

Dwalin rushed to do as was bided and Bilbo squawked at him. “Wait! That’s not necessary!”

Tears fell freely down Thorin’s face and he smothered his lips against the hobbit’s neck, his beard scratching pleasantly against the soft skin. He rasped, “Bilbo, I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh Eru,” Bilbo sighed, rolling his eyes. “You are all being ridiculous. I’m not hurt.”

“That’s just the adrenaline,” Óin barked, slapping Bombur’s hand away when he tried to help Nori cushion the hobbit’s feet with a small chest of gold. “Leave him. No one touch him.”

Thorin glared mutinously through his tears at the healer, refusing to move an inch from Bilbo side. The dwarf King carefully cradled Bilbo’s jaw, stroking his thumb across the hobbit’s lips before kissing them softly. Dori awkwardly moved away and set the hobbits head carefully on the ground. “I won’t leave, ghivashel. I’ll stay by your side always. Men lananubukhs menu.”

“You all,” Bilbo growled against Thorin’s lips, tired of their fretting. Before they could make an even bigger production, Bilbo yanked the dagger out of his belly. The blade’s sharp edge snagged on part of the silvery threads of his tunic, so it took a couple of tugs before it came loose. Everyone had gone into full blown hysterics by then.

“No!” Thorin bellowed, falling on Bilbo to keep him still. The hobbit groaned out loud, surprise by the dwarf’s sudden weight.

“You idiot!” Bilbo screeched, kicking out with his feet. “I’m wearing the mithril shirt you gave me! I’m not hurt!”

“What?” Dis asked, falling back on her rump.

“I. Am. Not. Hurt.” Bilbo tossed the dagger over Thorin’s head and to Fili’s feet. The Prince picked the weapon up and examined it.

“There’s no blood,” Fili gasped in wonder.

Thorin rolled off him and to his knees, wrenching the hobbit’s shirt open so hard the gemstone buttons went flying. In the torch light, the silver metal of the chainmail glittered like moonlight on the water. A few of their friends gasped in amazement, either surprised by how unharmed Bilbo was or by the sight of the chainmail, the hobbit could only guess. Bombur looked ready to faint in shock and nearly stumbled to the floor when his knees gave out from under him.

“For Mahal’s sake,” Óin groaned, sagging against his brother’s back. “Warn me ahead of time if yer gonna play a bloody trick like that. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Dis reached over Bilbo and smacked her brother over the head. “Dunderhead!”

Nori plopped himself into a pile of gold and stared dazed out at the horizon. “That was…petrifying.” Náli’s men awkwardly looked at each other, unsure what to do. One kindly offered Nori a handkerchief, which made the red-headed dwarf glower at him before swiping it from his hands.

Ori nodded, clutching Dwalin tightly around the middle, careful not to jar Master Pumpernickel. The royal guard scratched at his beard, brows wrinkled in confusion. “So the halflng’s okay?” he asked, sounding a bit like he was somewhat put out by the news. Bilbo glared suspiciously over Thorin’s head at him.

Grumbling loudly in Khuzdul, Óin got to his feet and wandered over to check on the cat, tutting at Dwalin not to jostle the creature. After a few minutes of examination, he declared Master Pumpernickel for the most part fine, but suffering from a concussion. Bilbo swore to himself he was going to see that the cat was spoiled in all the best ways he could imagine. There would be fluffy pillows and the best catnip one could buy from the Dale market! Anything Master Pumpernickel desired would be his. The cat had been a true knight in furry armor.

“I hate you!” Bofur yelled, throwing his hands up in the air and knocking his hat off. “My beard’s going to fall right out because of you both. I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about the mithril shirt, Bilbo, and here Thorin knew the whole time you were wearing it.”

Thorin ducked his sister’s next swipe, trying to roll away as she scuffled after him. “I didn’t know!”

Bilbo wiggled up into a sitting position. Checking over his belly he found the hole where the dagger had pierced his clothing and stuck a finger through the torn fabric, wiggling his finger and laughing somewhat hysterically. The chainmail looked as good as new, and besides being a bit winded, Bilbo was completely fine. He guessed Thorin wasn’t kidding when he said that nothing could damage mithril.

There was a loud creaking noise and everyone turned their weapons on the intruder, even Bilbo picked up his dagger to protect himself. Náli’s men had strangely been complaisant since their master’s incapacitation, but it wasn’t smart to be careless about security at a moment like this. It would be the perfect opportunity to strike a blow if one was looking for it.

“Oh bother!” Gandalf stepped out of the door that had mysteriously appeared in the wall, tugging cobwebs from his beard and unaware of their presence. Kili made a gurgling noise in his throat and the wizard paused, turning slowly to look at them. “Well, this _is_ a surprise. Everything alright?”

“Gandalf,” Bilbo sighed, ignoring Fili’s loud groaning. Thorin fell at Bilbo’s side, wrapping his arms around the hobbit and burying his face against his neck as the rest of their Company rush to besiege the wizard with the tales of what had just occurred. The dwarf’s nose was cold and blood still oozed from the cut on his forehead, staining what was probably the last clean space on Bilbo’s clothes. The gorgeous outfit was completely ruined at this point.

“Let’s go home,” the dwarf King said, squeezing the hobbit tightly. “I am tired and would like to sleep with you at my side.”

“Gladly,” Bilbo replied, carding his fingers through Thorin’s hair and smiling.

 

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNINGS: Attempted murder and suggestions of sexual molestation by Náli towards Bilbo. Nothing too graphic, but just in case you need to know.
> 
> NOTE: In case it got a bit confusing, Náli was taunting Thorin by saying Bilbo wasn’t good enough (mostly because he didn’t know Bilbo was there at the time), but then turned around and tried to woo Bilbo with extravagant promises like he was, mostly because Náli was just sort of crazy obsessed. He has that ‘nice guy’ attitude where the chick is perfect and beautiful when they haven’t yet turned them down, but is suddenly not good enough and scum of their shoes when she does reject them. It’s very much a ‘love’-hate one-sided relationship. I had a guy friend in high school who would bad-mouth a girl to other guys he professed to have a crush on, but was suddenly charming and worshiping when she was around. It was super creepy and I wish I had the balls at that age to have called him on it.
> 
> Men lananubukhs menu> I love you
> 
> The end is neigh! Epilogue next. We will discover the item Frerin left behind for his brother.  
> Glóin will regret that promise to Gimli. =)
> 
> Louis de Bernières in Corelli’s Mandolin:  
> Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don’t blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being “in love”, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.

**Author's Note:**

> We're going to assume that Aragorn's ancestor wasn't a dick and listened to Lord Elrond and threw the ring into Mordor when he had the chance, thus pretty much stopping the majority of horrible things that were to happen from happening, and keeping peace throughout Middle-Earth. Also, the hobbits settled near Erebor and not Bree- will most likely explain that later.
> 
> Also, IamJohnlock has amazingly offered to translate the fic into [German](http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/512f56c100025301067007d3) and Hanao has been wonderful to translate it into [Chinese](http://www.ahobbit.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=191&extra=page%3D1)!
> 
> ***Fic has finally gotten a beta, the great Caristia, and we'll mostly be working from CH 20 forward, and going back and updating earlier chapters as we go. Thank you Caristia!!***


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